Separation anxiety

I want to say that we’ve turned a corner. And we have, sort of. Saturday night, we got G to sleep in until 7 am, and there was no barking at all when we turned out the lights. And while that was indeed a win, he’s not listening as well as he had the first two days. And instead of following me around as he should, he just wants to keep exploring the rest of the house.

I am not supposed to be doing anything with G besides practice basic obedience commands like “Sit,” “Down,” “Stay,” “Wait,” and “Come.” He did great initially, but now he’s not staying or waiting until he’s released with the word “Free” like he should be.  He does a good job of waiting when I feed him, but it’s hit or miss at other times. And he should be doing it every single time. 

You’re probably thinking, “WTH…isn’t this a highly trained service dog? Aside from being able to kick ass on all it the basic obedience stuff, shouldn’t he also be doing all sorts of super-hero special things for you?” Friend, I am here to tell you right now that getting a trained service dog does not mean that everything happens perfectly in an instant, which is what most people assume.

Even though Paws does an outstanding job with trying to manage expectations for their clients, I admit I was hoping for more at this stage as well. But the reality is that he is a dog, not a robot. He doesn’t know me—the tone and inflections of my voice or the way I move around. He isn’t familiar with this house or our rules and schedules. He must be so perplexed as to what is even happening to him right now.

Connie comes for our training session on Monday, and G dog is over the moon to see her. As in, he is acting like, “Yippee! You have come back to save me from these clueless idiots!” It’s a bit unnerving to see so much joy in his face directed at someone else.

I update Connie on everything that’s been going on and ask countless questions on what to do, again derailing her attempt to be in and out in an hour. But she kindly listens with complete empathy and without any judgment. Of course, she’s an advocate for the dog, but she also seems to be genuinely in my corner as well, offering me great advice and making me feel valued and heard. She tells me that dogs, even the most highly trained ones, are inherently opportunists. Much like a toddler (or teenager for that matter), they will push boundaries and try to see what they can get away with. Consistency, patience, and follow-through are key—three things I’ve already managed to muck up in the 3 days he’s been here. 

She warns me that the worse thing I can do is to “poison” a command by making it meaningless. For example, when G is distracted by the cat at this stage in our relationship and leaves the room to follow him, calling out “Come” at that point is a sure set-up for failure. He’s not going to come, and if I keep saying the word with no results, he’ll know that he doesn’t really have to listen. So, in that situation, I am better off following him and doing something to redirect his attention back on me. However, when you’re mobility-challenged, this becomes a little harder to pull off in a timely fashion.

My homework assignment for the rest of this week is to practice getting him to stay for very short periods as I do things that intrigue him enough to break the command, like moving towards the door. Every time he doesn’t stay, I need to take him back to the same spot to start it all over again. She demonstrates this, and he has a hard time initially even listening to her. But after only two failed attempts, he starts to perform beautifully and finds himself rewarded with treats and chin rubs. 

The duration with which she wants me to keep him in the “stay” mode before “freeing” him is incredibly short. We will eventually work up to a more extended period of time and a further distance apart. I understand that it’s going to have to be baby steps while we get to know each other, but I fear this will take forever.

Connie leaves to get to her next client, and G stands at the door staring at it long after it closes, absolutely devastated that he doesn’t get to go with her. I try everything to distract him, but nothing works. I finally lure him with a treat to follow me back into my office (probably not what I should have done) and close the door to keep him from going back to where she just exited. He sits at the door and makes those pitiful dog crying noises that feel like a punch to the gut. My heart breaks for him, and I vow then and there to be the kind of human deserving of that level of devotion.