Day four. It was a fairly uneventful day for my friend - he stayed under my desk again for most of it. I made pigs in a blanket for dinner and had some li'l smokies left over - brought some over to the desk and offered him some.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, I worked up to today's milestone.
I offered him a piece of li'l smokie from my hand - figured he wouldn't take it. He wouldn't even look at it.
So I set it on the ground in front of him and, at my husband's suggestion, just left my hand hanging under the desk and didn't look at him. After a few minutes, he took it.
Again. He took it a little faster this time, after a minute or so.
Again. My hand a little closer this time. He took it.
Again. My finger just barely touching the piece of food. He still took it. We stayed on that step for quite a while, occasionally offering it to him from my hand. No dice.
Finally, after half an hour - he took it from my hand, and then did it several times more. That was today's victory.
He ate his dinner under my desk, while I was at it. Also, somewhat of a victory. Quite a bit of proximity for him to let his guard down like that.
He nosed my leg with his nose from under the desk once. That was the first time he's touched me, unsolicited.
I reached down to pet him once and he almost imperceptibly lifted his head toward my hand instead of away from it.
A few times, I've seen him looking fairly relaxed. He laid on his side once or twice.
So, several small milestones.
Still, he cannot overcome his fear enough to walk if anyone in the house is standing, if anyone looks at him, and generally not unless I am reading to him. (Some slight progress on the last one.) So he has to be carried outside, carried to the crate, carried everywhere. He tried to climb the side of the house again today for no reason that was obvious to me. He still won't make eye contact and seems terrified, never ever ever for one second willingly ventures out of his safe zones to just be out in the open space. That will be a milestone and a half. We will have a party that day. A very quiet, subdued party where everyone sits on the floor and avoids eye contact, of course.
It means more than I can say to have the support of this community. There is a stigma in rescue, sometimes, about "getting attached" as a foster. There's always that one person in every organization who's not really made of made of tough enough stuff for fostering, can never let a dog go, and it seems like there's sort of an inclination to prove that you're not that person - you can keep an appropriate distance, you can do the work but not get excessively emotional as each dog leaves. It's kind of a weird, unspoken "rescue culture," I've noticed. I don't want to be that person that gets torn up about a dog that they've always known would be a foster, but this is a tough one. It helps just to have the empathy and understanding of this group.
Under my desk, he just nudged me again. He's killin' me. We're making very good progress through an Abraham Lincoln biography, today.
