Since we adopted Elky and Tassel they have taught me a wonderful lesson about dealing with change. On the day of adoption the owners brought them to our home and stayed for an hour or so telling us of each dog’s quirks and preferences and letting the dogs get comfortable with us.
The first indication of Corgi resilience came when the visit was over and the owners climbed into their truck and drove away. As I’m sure you can imagine, leaving the dogs was very hard for them. I was fairly choked up with sympathy for their having to part from old friends, and I know there wasn’t a dry eye in the cab of the truck as they drove away. I had put the dogs on leash because I was concerned that they might be distressed at being left behind and try to chase the truck but, aside from some puzzlement at not having been loaded into the truck with the owners, neither dog seemed all that concerned.
Over the next couple of weeks I remarked to friends how quickly the dogs had adjusted to their new surroundings. They seemed entirely comfortable even the second day with us, which was no small feat, given that it was Easter Sunday and our house was invaded by a chaotic family gathering that included six new people and their four dogs. After the company left Elky and Tassel stretched out on the rug and napped as though it had been business as usual.
“But don’t they miss their previous owners?” a friend asked. “How sad! You’d think they would grieve at least for a week or two.” Not that I could tell, I would reply. Each morning Elky and Tassel emerged from their crates with tails wagging, exuberant barks, and every sign of eagerness to welcome the new day. They happily explored the winding trails in the woods nearby, challenged the UPS truck each time it drove by, romped across the vacant fields next to the college, and trotted around the house behind me as if asking, “O.K., Jim, what’s next? Wanna go out and play?” Their appetites remained robust. I could detect no signs of grief.
Now it may well be that this behavior is typical of Corgis, or it may reflect a sense of security and confidence borne of the previous owners’ good training and loving care (I’ve never met better behaved dogs.) Or maybe it’s simply the way dogs look at things. I have no doubt that if/when the previous owners come for a visit or borrow the girls for an overnight or weekend at their old home, as we’ve invited them to do, Elky and Tassel will be jubilant at seeing their old friends: there will be dog kisses all around. But as for hanging on to the way things used to be, or bemoaning their losses, it doesn’t seem to be the Corgi way. Whatever memories they have of pervious times, they don’t let the past get in the way of the delicious present. I hope some of this rubs off on me as I share my life with these two wonderful dogs. I hope I can achieve some degree of their uncomplicated, uncontrived joy at whatever the day offers, that I can come out of my crate each morning, you might say, with tail wagging and exuberant barks.
The first indication of Corgi resilience came when the visit was over and the owners climbed into their truck and drove away. As I’m sure you can imagine, leaving the dogs was very hard for them. I was fairly choked up with sympathy for their having to part from old friends, and I know there wasn’t a dry eye in the cab of the truck as they drove away. I had put the dogs on leash because I was concerned that they might be distressed at being left behind and try to chase the truck but, aside from some puzzlement at not having been loaded into the truck with the owners, neither dog seemed all that concerned.
Over the next couple of weeks I remarked to friends how quickly the dogs had adjusted to their new surroundings. They seemed entirely comfortable even the second day with us, which was no small feat, given that it was Easter Sunday and our house was invaded by a chaotic family gathering that included six new people and their four dogs. After the company left Elky and Tassel stretched out on the rug and napped as though it had been business as usual.
“But don’t they miss their previous owners?” a friend asked. “How sad! You’d think they would grieve at least for a week or two.” Not that I could tell, I would reply. Each morning Elky and Tassel emerged from their crates with tails wagging, exuberant barks, and every sign of eagerness to welcome the new day. They happily explored the winding trails in the woods nearby, challenged the UPS truck each time it drove by, romped across the vacant fields next to the college, and trotted around the house behind me as if asking, “O.K., Jim, what’s next? Wanna go out and play?” Their appetites remained robust. I could detect no signs of grief.
Now it may well be that this behavior is typical of Corgis, or it may reflect a sense of security and confidence borne of the previous owners’ good training and loving care (I’ve never met better behaved dogs.) Or maybe it’s simply the way dogs look at things. I have no doubt that if/when the previous owners come for a visit or borrow the girls for an overnight or weekend at their old home, as we’ve invited them to do, Elky and Tassel will be jubilant at seeing their old friends: there will be dog kisses all around. But as for hanging on to the way things used to be, or bemoaning their losses, it doesn’t seem to be the Corgi way. Whatever memories they have of pervious times, they don’t let the past get in the way of the delicious present. I hope some of this rubs off on me as I share my life with these two wonderful dogs. I hope I can achieve some degree of their uncomplicated, uncontrived joy at whatever the day offers, that I can come out of my crate each morning, you might say, with tail wagging and exuberant barks.
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