Long accustomed to the seclusion of suburban life, 5-year-old Aspen was easily overwhelmed after moving to an Uptown apartment building. When she stepped out into the hallway, a few apartments would bark at her, or worse, a front door would swing open without warning. Sometimes the elevator stopped between floors to allow strangers to enter the confined space, or they would suddenly appear in the small lobby chased by wheeled carry-ons.
But these scary possibilities were just a prelude to what lay ahead: A daily nightmare of street sounds, barking houses, and the persistent likelihood of close encounters with pedestrians, many in the company of their dogs. Aspen wanted it over with as quickly as possible.
Sensory overload
Her head swiveled from side to side scanning the surroundings for dangers that did not exist. With some coaxing, we made it as far as the adjacent parking lot where she relieved herself on a patch of soil before dragging me back to the front entrance. Our first walk lasted 12 stomach-churning minutes.
Back inside the apartment, I tossed treats around the open space to help Aspen decompress while paving the way to her heart. She is an avid foodie.
And food was the motivation Aspen needed. She was so preoccupied by the possibility of bad stuff happening, she could not focus on anything but her apprehension.
Food for thought
Her loving owner supplied yummy training treats which we used to encourage Aspen’s focus, to reward calm behavior and build her self-confidence. But first, I needed to earn her trust because my presence gave Aspen the jitters. In a matter of days, she loosened up enough to ease the walk to the parking lot, and after a few more, we ventured beyond the lot, at first a block away, then another, and another, until we were roaming both sides of the street.
Aspen remained calm so long as the other dogs out for a midday stroll stayed on the other side of the street or down the block. Maintaining that safe distance was my job. Hers was to passively observe the other dog and then look at me to get a treat. Remarkable progress was made by a dog that actively avoided eye contact with me in the early days. And I owe it all to freeze-dried poultry.
New beginnings
The real fun happened after the walk, when I skimmed treats across the polished floor for Aspen to chase, while recording our adventure in the visit journal to share with her owner. No matter how jittery Aspen was feeling, the walk always ended with shared enjoyment.
Pretty soon those positive feelings carried over into the next walk. I would find Aspen raring to go, ready to confront the scary stuff in spite of her insecurities, because she was rewarded for trying. The visit would end with a game that was both fun and calming.
Our last one was a month ago, shortly before she and her owner moved to their new home in the suburbs. Hooray for Aspen!
Cover photo by Maureen Chambley. This is the bright, charming dog I got to know.
