I’m fairly pleased to have “Gone in a Flash” this far along already. Since starting it, I’ve spent several hours each week in my office, which helps tremendously to minimize distractions and interruptions. It does indeed minimize, but I can’t honestly say it eliminates them! Star often comes tearing up the stairs and into the room, with Arctic following in her wake. They mill about for a bit, he checks the window to ensure there’s no activity in the cul de sac in need of reporting, and she attacks my Apple pencil and wages a sometimes successful campaign to oust my iPad and take over my lap. But, then they settle down, and I get back to work.
As I mentioned previously, Arctic was responding amazingly to the distraction/desensitization training taking place during our walks. That is, until coronavirus moved in, everyone was ordered to stay home, and promptly poured out into the streets, walking trails, and parks. The walks Arctic once loved and anticipated with excitement, he dreaded and anticipated anxiously. We quit walking, because it was doing more harm than good. The poor guy really was not doing well. When it came to helping him cope with his anxiety, I didn’t think there was anything left to try that I wasn’t already. Our vet is great and offers televisits, and he came to the same conclusion. It took a couple of tries and some dosage tweaking, but we’re seeing a big difference thanks to the right antianxiety med. I took several videos this weekend, intending to use them so the animal behaviorist (Arctic has an appointment in a month) can observe his response to various stressors. Well… I think if she were to see them, she’d wonder why we thought he needed help. He’s doing that much better! I’m hopeful this trend will spread to other areas, such as loading into the vehicle, or entering the garage, for that matter. He’s had a deep seated distrust of the garage ever since we brought him home. He has never entered it under his own power. Tomorrow we’ll begin working toward that goal, which we at last have reason to believe is possible.
Speaking of the day we brought him home, it turns out he was four-weeks-old at the time; not eight! It was a shock to realize it, but at the same time it explains so much. His weight, for example. He was four pounds, which is a far cry from the sixteen to twenty of an average eight-week-old German Shepherd pup. Four pounds is a little below the four week average of five-and-a-half to nine, but it’s certainly closer. If Arctic was truly eight weeks, it would mean he had severe developmental delays. If he was four, then he was right on target. When I saw a series of weekly photos of a White German Shepherd litter, there was no longer any question. He wasn’t eight-weeks-old until a month after Em got him.
It would’ve been nice to know, but maybe the woman who rescued the runt of the litter from the mud and got permission to take him, didn’t know it herself. She did rescue him, and I’m thankful for that. It explains so much, though. I can’t say we wouldn’t do a lot of things differently, had we realized. But we didn’t, and fortunately Arctic had Indy guiding him for all but four weeks of his first year, and six more months after that. He made a big difference. I’d say he made all the difference.