Rescue basenjis
often have parts of their pasts that we’ll never know about, people or events
that will stay with them forever, circumstances that helped to shape their
perspectives on the world. Details of their pasts might well remain unknown, so
we need to patiently try to learn how our little curly tails see the world.
We moved from
Florida to Illinois just a few months after we adopted Dasa. When we bought our
house in Illinois, the back yard was surrounded by an inexpertly constructed
shadow box fence that would not have significantly slowed an escape by the
Munchkins. One of the first things we did, even before unpacking much more than
essentials and all dog-related paraphernalia, was arrange to have a 6-foot
privacy fence built with landscape timbers along the bottom and padlocked gates
to make it as secure as possible. While we were waiting for the fence to be
constructed, we decided to give the Munchkins some back yard time with 40 foot
tie outs. They were never left alone on the tie outs, just as we don’t leave
them alone in the backyard now. I took them into the back yard, attached the
tie out cables to their collars, and undid their leashes.
They had
differing reactions to the tie out. Ivan immediately went to the end of his
cable, nearly walking sideways to sniff a spot just a tad out of reach. No
matter where I put his tie out, there was always something wonderful just
beyond it, and he kept himself entertained with his busyness and efforts to
take over the entire yard.
Dasa, however, was
quite happy to be on a six-foot leash. As soon as I hooked the tie out cable to
her collar, her little tail drooped and she sagged with misery. I tried to
assure her that I would not leave her alone in the back yard, but even sitting
with my arm around her, administering lots of reassurances and rubbing her
tummy did nothing to comfort her. A dark suspicion began to form when I clipped
on her leash, unhooked the cable, and saw the transformation. She was quite
content and her little tail assumed its jaunty arch. A bit later I tried the
cable again, and she fell into the same disconsolate posture. The dark
suspicion became an angry black cloud. Someone had left my tiny girl tied out
somewhere. My tiny girl. Cold and alone. I immediately switched back to her
leash, and promised my now happy little girl that she would never be left tied
to anything.
We may never know
Ivan and Dasa’s entire stories, but we do our best to make all of our chapters
good ones.
Oh, Peggy, that's so sad to contemplate. I'm so glad Dasa found you!
ReplyDeleteWe adopted Dasa in April 2004. We moved here the first of September 2004, and it took about a month to have a fence built. During that month Dasa wandered around the back yard with me following along on the other end of the leash, enjoying a leisurely pace unlike our brisk clip down the street on walks. Ten years have gone by in a sigh and a smile.
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