In a lot of ways, dogs are like little children. They are inquisitive, sweet, and needy. They need stability, they need love, and they need time to adapt when life throws them big changes that are hard for them to comprehend. To young children and to dogs, every time a cherished person leaves their sight, they have no idea when that person will return. You can’t explain it to them, you can’t reason with them, you just have to comfort them and make them feel as safe and secure as they can be.
That’s why it’s so important to me that the dogs become acclimated to me before I take them under my care. I would never normally allow a dog to be dropped off in this hurried situation. I don’t know exactly why I agreed. Maybe it was the thought of the poor dog being alone all day or the fact that the cologne Cooper was wearing was more intoxicating than any booze I’d ever sipped. The musky scent went straight to my head, making the room feel like it was swaying. I could barely think straight the entire time he was here.
Had I really just let a man stroll right into my apartment and then agreed to watch his dog?
“What is wrong with you, Summer?” I mutter aloud.
I kneel down, lightly clapping my hands together as I call Rosco’s name. He turns, watching me with suspicious blue eyes. Sadie and Lola trot eagerly to me, nuzzling against me and licking my hands. I stroke them, hoping to show Rosco that I’m not a danger. After a few minutes of watching me with dread, gazing at the door with hope, and regarding my own dogs with lukewarm curiosity, he finally ambles over.
Rosco takes the long way, circling the living room like a shark so that he can carefully gauge my body language. I would’ve offered him a treat, but without talking to his vet, I didn’t want to risk any allergies. For tonight, he would have only the food that Cooper left for him.
“Hi, Rosco,” I whisper, voice low and level as the large Husky finally approaches.
He sits at my side, keeping an eye on me. I lift a palm toward him, keeping it carefully within his sight. He sniffs my hand before allowing me to pet him. He doesn’t press against my hand, he doesn’t close his eyes with pleasure. The dog simply allows me the honor of petting him, as though telling me that he will never like me the way he likes Cooper.
“I know you’re not too happy about being left behind, but it’ll be all right. Tomorrow we’ll go for a walk. How does that sound?”
I always found myself talking to the dogs as though they can understand me. And while I know that they can’t comprehend every word I say, I also know that my tone goes a long way. It was so sweet to see that Cooper speaks to Rosco like a friend rather than an animal. It almost made me like the smug CEO. Almost.
Rosco’s stiff posture softens as he slowly inches closer and closer until he leans heavily against my side, his snout resting against my shoulder. He’s searching for comfort and has realized he will only find it with me. I rub his back, sighing softly. The poor boy is confused and afraid, but fortunately I see no signs of aggression in his turmoil. Though I wish I could let him sleep in bed with me and my dogs tonight, the best thing for him is the security of the kennel.
I glance at my watch. So much for my relaxing night. I might as well just get the dogs fed and ready to sleep.
Despite standing up with careful slowness, Rosco still darts away at the movement. Giving him as much space as he needs, I fill the dogs’ bowls. I have plenty of spare bowls and pick a blue one for Rosco that matches his eyes. Knowing that some larger breeds can be possessive of their food while eating, I separate Lola and Sadie from Rosco before setting the bowls down. After letting Rosco sit with his dish for thirty minutes, the big dog still hasn't so much as sniffed the food. This doesn’t surprise me with how sad he’s been acting since Cooper left. Many dogs manifest their sadness in different ways, from not eating to eating too much, being lethargic or destructive. You never know how they’ll react to stress. Rosco probably wouldn’t even eat if starving and there’s little I can do to convince him. At least it’s only for one night. He’ll be fine until Cooper came to get him tomorrow.
I pick up his bowl and set it aside, so I can try again later. I stroke his soft ears as he stares into my eyes, begging me to bring his master back to him.
“You’ll see him tomorrow,” I promise him. “Let’s get you in the kennel.”
His ears prick just slightly at the familiar word and I gesture him toward the roomy metal cage. He sniffs it, tail going between his legs, but eventually walks in. I kneel down and lock the cage, reaching my fingers in to pet him one more time before letting Sadie and Lola out of my room.
They’d scarfed down their food and were now curiously checking on Rosco. The three dogs sniffed one another between the metal separation of the kennel.
Leaving my bedroom door open, I climb into bed and stretch out, my arms and legs wearily flopping against my soft mattress. During the summer it’s too hot for a comforter, especially with my two furry radiators joining me, so I just have a simple cotton sheet instead. I listen for the sound of Lola and Sadie trotting over, expecting them to leap up into bed, but I only hear them roaming the living room before settling beside Rosco’s kennel, as if they know he’s lonely and they want to keep him company.
Dogs truly are the gentlest beings in the universe, and I’m proud to know that I’m the owner of two such sweethearts. I’m glad now that I took Rosco in instead of turning him away. If I hadn't, he’d be laying on his own master’s bed, sad and alone. At least here he can have some company. Maybe he and my dogs will even become friends.
At some point while I’m planning which route will be easiest for Rosco to walk in the morning, I drift asleep. It’s a restless sleep, from which I half rouse with every small sound or movement in the living room. It’s always like this with a new dog that I’m watching. I can’t help but be nervous about how they’re doing. Still, I fully wake only when Lola and Sadie jump onto my bed in the early morning, licking my face and begging for breakfast.
Sleepily, I trudge into the living room and let Rosco out. He stretches and greets Lola and Sadie with a sniff, his usually low-lying tail lifting to half-mast and wagging slowly. Apparently, Rosco is a morning dog.
This time, when I separate the dogs and feed Rosco, he is more willing to eat. He scarfs down a few handfuls before pushing away his bowl with his snout. It’s not perfect, but it’s progress and it delights me.
After waiting for Sadie and Lola to finish up as well, I gather all the dogs for our morning walk.
“We’re going to take the route down through the park,” I explain, laughing when Rosco joins in as Sadie and Lola jump and dance around at the sight of their leashes. As it is with many dogs including my own, walks appear to be his favorite thing.
Despite Rosco’s cautious cheeriness, I know that Cooper must not be far from his mind and I don’t want to overwhelm him.
“I think that will be the least intimidating route for you, Rosco. There’s not a lot of cars or people this early.”
He barks happily as if he agrees.
Once all three dogs are leashed and ready, I head out the door and make a swift right. The morning sun glints off the windows of the buildings surrounding me, the summer sky cloudless and blue. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Maybe, if the weather stays this flawless, I’ll take the dogs to the dog park. Rosco would probably appreciate some time off-leash to wander and stretch his long legs. Though Cooper said his Husky is energetic, he’s been quiet and still for much of the time with me. Now, he trots enthusiastically, his ears up and tongue lolling. The sun must feel nice on his thick fur.