Once Flossie, our newly adopted rescue dog from Cyprus, had recovered from her long journey, she was full of beans. A LOT of beans.
She was now living without any canine playmates for the first time in her life and she had excess energy to burn. Luckily, we have a good sized garden for her to explore. At first she would slink around the edges, afraid of venturing into the open space, but she slowly gained confidence, as long as we were outside with her.
I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time in our garden in December. It was bitterly cold. Flossie didn’t seem to notice, even though she hailed from Cyprus, but I had to layer up every time we went outside, which seemed like it was every hour.
Our dog was a speeding gazelle
It was while we watched her cavorting around the garden that we realised just how agile she was, and is. She would streak across the lawn at breakneck speed, springing onto the upper level of patio as effortlessly as a gazelle. I was concerned she might hurt herself. I needn’t have worried. It seems she has an inbuilt ability to judge precisely when to turn mid-air and just how high to jump to ensure she clears any obstacles.
And if we didn’t manage to get her into the garden for her wild half hours, that wasn’t a problem. We have an open-plan living room, dining area and kitchen. This is apparently the perfect space for zoomies.
We would watch with our mouths open, and slightly crazed expressions on our faces as this slight, black furry creature flew around the room, her paws galloping past us as she flung herself up onto the sofa in the living room, leapt across it, bounced onto the floor and then sprinted across the dining room where she would take a running jump up onto the arm of the sofa in the kitchen.
And then the whole circuit would be repeated, again and again. We probably should have tried to stop her, but we were paralysed with laughter. After half a dozen laps, she would slow down and we could breathe again, grateful that her supreme judgement and timing hadn’t resulted in any damage, either to herself, to us, or to our home.
It soon became clear that it was time to take her out for a walk.
The first venture into the outside world
Our first walk was to a nearby park. It was quiet and we got her into the car to take her there without too many problems. When we arrived, she was nervy but we managed to walk a little way. I was glad I had practised lead-walking her at home in her harness. She seemed so frail though and it was rather like walking a jumpy crab as she careered off in all directions, stopping and starting at everything from a fluttering leaf to a chirping bird.
It was going reasonably well until we got five minutes into the walk. Two ladies entered the park with a large, energetic, greyhound-type dog which instantly fixed its gaze upon us. I could see that the women were busy chatting and not paying attention, so I anticipated what was going to happen.
And I was right.
An unfortunate encounter
The dog bolted across the park at full tilt towards us. Flossie yelped in terror. She looked so small and fragile. I couldn’t tell whether this dog wanted to play or whether it was going to wrap its teeth around her. I just knew I didn’t want her first encounter to be like this.
I wasn’t going to take any chances, so I picked her up. I know it’s not the ideal thing to do, but in the heat of the moment with a huge dog hurtling towards us, seemingly with no brakes, it seemed the best course of action. I think a few swear words may have escaped my lips.
The dog’s owner made her way over and started shouting at us, “You should never pick up your dog!” My blood boiled but I kept my cool. I calmly explained that Flossie was a wild and scared puppy newly arrived from Cyprus, that this was her first EVER walk and that we did not appreciate her dog hurtling across the park towards us in a frenzied whirlwind. The lady looked like she’d swallowed a wasp but I think she got the message.
Our walk now spoiled, we returned to the car feeling rather despondent, fiercely protective over our vulnerable and now terrified girl, our hearts still thudding with adrenaline.
What were we going to do now?
Back home, we discussed what to do next. The walk had not gone as planned. The encounter with the high-speed dog had frightened an already nervous Flossie and we needed to be really careful how we handled it so we didn’t make matters worse.
We agreed the best thing would be to walk Flossie where we knew we would not meet any off-lead dogs. That way, we could guarantee there would be no repeat of our experience in the park while we tried to build up her confidence.
This ruled out most of the walks in the area.
We left it a couple of days. We walked her around the garden so she could become more familiar with the lead and harness and she continued to do her crazy zoomies in the garden, and in our living room.
We decided to walk Flossie from our house and around the block – a very quiet five minute trip.
The first attempt was unsuccessful. I put her harness and lead on and, because we’d been practising in the garden, I simply extended the walk by opening the back gate and continuing onto our drive.
Flossie and I were a few paces up the drive when she stood still, completely rigid with fear. She had been absolutely fine in the garden, but this was different. Her eyes were darting around, looking at the other houses in the road and the open space. She started to whimper and shake.
I led her back into the garden.
This was going to be another challenge.
Suzy Pope is a certified copywriter and newspaper columnist specialising in pets, business and lifestyle. If you would like help with a writing project, please get in touch.
