Friday night, after the girls were down, I climbed under my weighted blanket with a glass of wine, Dogland (so, so good, btw), and Penny, who promptly fell asleep on my arm.
She twitched a little as she snoozed, and when John walked through the bedroom on his way to the closet, she lifted her head.
We both assumed she saw or smelled him. But, when he approached to pet her, she leapt out of bed with a bark and a growl.
He jumped back.
Immediately, Penny realized it was John and settled. He, however, felt very unsettled.
She is so good and sweet and gentle that we often forget–and, thus, take for granted–that she came to us with significant trauma.
And even though six good months have helped her heal significantly, she has more than two years before that filled with neglect and abuse. When we forget that fact, when we drop our careful attention, that will always be on us, never on her.
With that in mind, I wanted to share Penny’s update partly to help anyone else who’s adopted a dog from similar circumstances feel less alone, and partly to give myself a record so that I can continue to look back and see how far we’ve come.
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I know you know this feeling because I’m fairly certain it’s universal: How on earth does time move so fast?
Penny joined our family a little more than six months ago, and while that’s hardly any time at all, it also feels like she’s been here forever.
But, first, if you’re new here, welcome! We lost our dog, Cooper, last fall, and it was really, really difficult for us and our girls. While we didn’t plan for things to move so quickly, we adopted Penny and here are a few posts to catch you up on her story:
Meet Penny!
The 3-3-3 Rule for Dog Rescue
It’s okay not to be okay
And that brings us to today, the six-ish-month mark with pretty Penny.
This past week has been interesting.
Along with the incident with John, several times recently she lurched out of sleep with a big growl or bark. We’ve reinforced the dog-safe ground rules with the girls of no waking or petting Penny if she’s asleep. If we need to wake her up, I’ll do so by either flicking the lights or stomping my feet.
Even though she seems so settled in, fear still plagues my girl.
That’s been apparent, too, with a regression on our neighborhood strolls.
We noticed Penny startled far more than usual on our walks.
In the beginning, everything scared her, so walks were slow and treat-heavy as we tried to pass one house, then two, then the block, and so on. It didn’t take her long to realize she enjoyed walks and, as long as we kept it slow, she persevered. (Slow, for real. It takes her about an hour to walk a mile.)
After a few months, Penny confidently walked the known streets of our neighborhood and delighted in walking through parks and along trails.
Every so often, though, she flinches. Something scares her, and she cowers.
Pancakes.
And then… recovers.
This week, though, she struggled to recover. It’s not been as bad as it was those first couple months, but it certainly feels like a setback.
On the flip side:
Twice in the last month, she walked down the front hallway in our house.
This is a feat she’s yet to attempt until now. You might’ve seen on Instagram a few months ago, Penny conquering the hallway in the house that connects the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room:
After a few tries over a couple weeks, a switch flipped and she was over it!
Now, I’m not going to say she’s “conquering” the front hallway in the same way.
She’s done it only those two times, and she has a perfectly reasonable path to avoid it altogether (she can walk through the living room to go upstairs and never have to use that hallway), but the fact that she’s attempted it–twice!–feels like forward progress.
One step forward and another step back
I suppose that’s recovery, isn’t it?
Progress will never be linear.
The past lives on in her mind and her body.
But, in the past six months she’s learned that good food comes regularly. She’s learned how to ask for what she wants. She’s learned how to cuddle and zoom around the yard.
She’s still learning safety.
She’s learning she can trust us, that we will never hurt her. She’s learning how to play with toys. She’s learning how to live with two very different cats. She’s learning that she’s safe even if she doesn’t always feel safe.
So, what are the six-month lessons?
Time and patience, before all else.
We need to remember not to take progress for granted. She’s doing amazing AND we need to account for and accommodate the past she carries with her.
Mostly, I’m so grateful for this sweet girl. She’s an incredible dog. Gentle, sweet, funny, and on the cusp of letting her silly side loose!
I’m also grateful to be entrusted with her care, to help her find her footing and feel safe in the world.
I’m excited to see where she goes in the next six months and am leaving this post here to look back on when we’re celebrating her first gotcha day because I have so much faith in Penny. I know each small setback will be accompanied by even bigger leaps forward.
Until then, time and patience. Which we all deserve.
If you enjoyed this post, you’ll also enjoy my forthcoming book, For the Love of Dog, from Regalo Press in 2025. It’s chock full of the latest research in canine cognition combined with stories of my dogs to bring the data to life. To stay up-to-date on the latest with my publication news, follow along on Instagram. I’d love to connect with you and your dog!
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