Maybe some of you are wondering why I don't post more photos of Jasper, our new dog. Answer: he has issues. He shrinks from the camera, runs away if I point it at him for long enough to focus. I got a couple of good pictures in the backyard when John was there distracting him (and he won't go into the backyard voluntarily unless one of us is with him, which is another issue). I know some people use the flash from their cameras as a deterrent or warning device to train their animals. We kind of wonder if that's what happened to him because he gets worried and slinks off the minute I get the camera out.
But now I've discovered something really strange. Jasper is terrified of the flashlight.
It's pretty dark in some areas of my neighborhood when the moon is too weak to provide much light, and the pavement can be uneven after seventy years. Also, our pampered pet has a horrible habit of eating extremely foul items he picks up from lawns and sidewalks; a muzzle of some sort is in his immediate future. So I thought I'd bring along a flashlight last week to help me keep an eye on what he was up to as well as where I was going.
The minute I turned it on he flipped out, cowering and shaking uncontrollably, trying to get away from me and back to the house. I turned it off and tried to comfort him but it was impossible. He ran all the way to the end of his retractable leash and stayed there with his tail tucked between his legs. It was horrible. The weird part is he didn't seem to react to the flashlight itself, just the light. I don't know for sure, but I think someone must have abused him with a flashlight, probably for barking at night when he was left alone outside in the backyard.
A dog is a pack animal, as everyone knows; they don't normally like being on their own all the time. Jasper sticks to us like glue. He has to be with one of us wherever we are in the house, and barks at us through the window every morning when we leave for work. He's not destructive so I think he's okay during the day, but he's hysterical with relief every time we come home. He's been traumatized by being left alone too much and it's going to take time for him to believe we will always come back. He has thoroughly adopted us, no question about that, and worships John. He has a truce with the cats, and allows Keiko to rub up against him unless he's sleeping in which case he gives a low, throaty growl as a warning. He's intimidated by Natasha, and she really keeps him in line. He won't pass her on the stairwell for fear of being swiped at with a claw. If she sits in the middle of the steps as she likes to do he whines and circles anxiously, wanting to go upstairs but unwilling to challenge her territory. It's pretty funny, and it's good. I want him to respect the cats.
But I don't know if I'll be able to do anything about the flashlight situation. Dixie never, in the eleven years we had her, stopped reacting badly to sudden loud noises nearby. She always cowered and immediately attempted to get away. No amount of soothing would work. She'd been shot at as a young dog and she couldn't help the association. Something equally powerful seems to have happened with Jasper and lights. He's got enough to learn without being forced to overcome his fear of the flashlight and camera flash. So I won't be posting many photos of him for awhile.
But here's a nice one of him enjoying a sunny Saturday a couple of weeks ago. I like Jasper. He's a good little dog. It's nice to see him settling in to his new routine. We'll give him as much time as he needs to let go of his anxiety. In the meantime, he thinks he's in heaven most of the time. Biscuits and walks and petting and boundaries and unlimited access to us equal love to him. He grunts with pleasure like a little pig when we rub his head and muzzle. He is one happy mutt.
Mr. Grunty
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