I love this photo of Tosca’s tail curled like a reverse question mark, as she grows curiouser and curiouser by the day. Needless to say, our monthly hike has been postponed because we went to the beach at the end of May. It was our first real trip with the dog if you don’t count bringing her home from the breeder’s. Despite our apprehensions, she traveled well. Her response to the ocean (first time!) was mixed, however. While she relished racing around in the sand and trotting after us on walks, she was absolutely petrified of the surf. Which is to say, she wouldn’t go anywhere near the water. When we did, she would stand rather plaintively just beyond the tide’s reach, watching us intently. I think it vexed her to sense some kind of danger in the crashing waves, know we were vulnerable to this, and yet be unable to protect us from it. True to her breed, she is very much a shepherd and our family, her flock. Eventually, she at least warmed up to the tidepools and would happily trounce through them—even up to her neck!—as long as one of us was by her side. But that water was shallow and still, whereas the ocean is a restless, roaring thing. It was interesting to see it through her eyes—namely, as menacing and inscrutable, a place we most certainly didn’t belong. Even other dogs who bounded into the water with the same joyful abandon as my daughter couldn’t entice her. Alas! We all have our idiosyncrasies.
That said, Tosca made remarkable progress during the trip in other ways. By the second day, we were able to let her off leash for the first time ever and she absolutely LOVED it. She even played with other dogs! Just a few, but still. For the most part, she flew around solo in every direction but kept tabs on where we were (which was never far), and always returned when called. This was somewhat shocking to me since she’s only been loosely “trained.” So it must be something else then, something that’s become innate to her species after centuries of domestication? Or perhaps we’re officially bonded together now? I’d read that this occurs over the first three days, weeks, and then months of adopting a dog (I believe it was called the 3-3-3 theory). And I was truly moved by the signs of her attachment on this trip—the way she would whine for us when we crated her in the rental before leaving for errands or meals; how content she seemed to lay, unleashed, at my side while I read in the sand; the fact that she still slept in my daughter’s room (which, of course, wasn’t her room) at night. So I guess there really is no question. She’s a keeper.
Well, then 