7. Happy '6 month' Gotcha day

Yes, Sadie has been with us for six whole months. We bought her — well, technically them — a dragon and a unicorn soft toy, which felt very fitting, given that finding the perfect adopters can sometimes feel like searching for dragons and unicorns (as I've said I do believe in them). Naturally Sammy immediately decided both toys were his personal property and made a determined escape with the unicorn, which was nearly as big as he was. Watching him trot off, trying to smuggle it onto my bed like some tiny furry burglar, was very funny. Sadie, in true Sadie style, first attempted to chew the newcomers into submission, but then began a very cautious game of tug of war with me. That was a real breakthrough, because up to now, whenever I tried games like that, she usually dropped the toy and retreated as though I had suggested advanced algebra rather than playtime. 

Of course, within days Sadie had reduced them to tiny clouds drifting across the floor, much to the horror of Harriet the Hoover. But Sadie does now play for a few moments at a time tug of war and occasionally with Sammy, -until he realises its Sadie and not mummy on the other end.  

Bizzy, as usual, only plays with little yellow ducks. Naturally, Sadie pinches them, Sammy pinches them, and I spend my time retrieving them for poor little Bizzy, who probably wonders when she accidentally moved into a toy-theft syndicate. Sammy also fancies himself as a gardener and kindly plants Bizzy’s ducks hoping they will grow and multiple.  It hasn’t worked yet, but I have retrieved quite a few when planting out -lots more awaiting their shoots and roots I think.  

Sadie is now ready to go — although exactly where is still under discussion, and the back field is looking like a very good bet. She comes into the front garden with me to feed the birds, runs around, and peers out of the gate with great longing, as though the whole world is clearly waiting for her to come out and play. She has managed to squeeze out into the field at the back of the house three times now; luckily, she comes when called, albeit in a rather slinky, “I fell here by accident” sort of way, and she does not venture far. I truly believe that if she had a real playmate, someone she could learn from and follow, she would move forward much faster. She does follow Sammy, but he does not really engage with her, which is such a shame, as she played wonderfully with Nellie. Perhaps Sammy simply feels his diary is already full with duck theft, gardening duties, and general important little (big)-man business. 

So, back in July, after much thought about how best to tackle the whole “getting Sadie out into the world” project, we realised we could not put a lead on her collar or neck. A harness had to be the safest option, but because it would be the only point of contact between Sadie and me, it needed to be as escape-proof as possible. We chose one with three straps; the last one goes under her tummy and should, in theory, prevent any dramatic Houdini-style exits. It also cost a small fortune, so I am very much hoping it works and does not become an expensive piece of lounge décor. To get her used to it, we have had it in the lounge, the garden, and anywhere else she might casually notice it without suspecting a plot. If she thinks I am going to put it on, she hides or wanders off at a pace, so I still have to be sly — which is not easy when your knees click louder than your intentions. Once it is on, she is okay, right up until you suggest moving. At that point, attaching the lead becomes deeply worrying, and she performs the full dead-fish routine: on the floor, unable to walk, ears down, shaking, and generally giving an Oscar-worthy performance of betrayal. Fortunately, the harness has a large, sturdy handle, so with the help of that, lots of coaxing, and a certain amount of undignified determination, we can now get about four metres past the car, which is roughly ten metres past the gate. At our current rate of progress, we may reach the bottom of the close in about four months — taking sandwiches, a flask, and possibly a small commemorative plaque. 

So, into September we go. As we were not getting much further with the lead and I did not want to half-drag Sadie down the road like a reluctant shopping trolley, we decided to try the car again. At first, she performed her usual flat-fish impression, until I wondered if maybe the harness was the problem. So, with no lead, no harness, just her collar, we put her in the car — well, I carried her, having first mentally booked myself an appointment at A&E. Breakthrough! She sat up, still a bit shaky, but nothing like before. She even poked her nose through the middle of us, possibly checking whether we had a travel brochure or at least snacks- we did — cheese. When we got home, she was delighted and did huge zoomies around the front garden and back, like never before. On the second day, she was the same, so we bravely ventured out of the village to the next village, parked up, had some cheese — the dogs, not us, sadly — and then continued home. Once the car was near the gate, Sadie was picked up, popped inside, and immediately launched into her new zoomie game before settling very happily in a chair in the yard. I am not sure whether it was the journey or the return home that made her so happy, though I strongly suspect it was the latter, with the cheese coming a close second. So, we have decided that next week Sadie is coming to the private, safe field, and we are just going to let her out and take it from there. Maybe I can build on the lead from that point — backwards, perhaps, but at this stage I will take progress in any direction, even sideways and do a dance routine — I wish. We could also possibly end up spending the day there, so a flask, sandwiches, and cheese may well be in order — because clearly no expedition with Sadie should be attempted without proper provisions. 

The next problem is her nails. She will not allow us to clip them, but I am going to persevere once more. After that, she may have to make a quick visit to the groomers, which of course means more carrying, and possibly another imaginary A&E referral for me.