Ms. Fanny came over this afternoon, and after a couple hours of gentle to intense effort she warmed up a *little*, as in "I'm not too happy about this, but I guess I'll acknowledge your presence if you're gonna keep bugging me". I'd say she was petrified for a good 97% of the time, but showed a couple brief glimpses of her true doggie nature.
I was very surprised that Jake worked with her one-on-one for the entire time-- he did really well with her.
But... he just doesn't feel that she's the dog we're looking for, and after today I'd honestly have to agree with him.
I miss the energy and excitement that Molly had, not just for us, but for everyone and everything. And maybe I'm mistaken into thinking that she'd have that same open-ness when she was fully grown, but I'd at least like to *try* and avoid getting a shy dog, given 1/2 a chance.
(and in this case, no one could say we weren't aware of her issues from the get-go. We *really* tried today, more than I even thought we would.)
I picked up about 5 dog books from the library (as is the custom of my people-- academic and nerdy, interacting with the world primarily thru the pages of a book), and all of them cautioned against the shy dog. I myself am shy enough, and in a very small way look to my pets to be the bridge between me and the outside world. I'm not enough of a crusader to be able to stand up for my shortcomings in the social dept and then somehow be able navigate the social quirks of my dog (which is why I'm such a hapless parent-- I'm never sure if I can deal with both their oddities and mine at the same time. I'm just not that coordinated.)
Anyhoo, all this "romancing the dog" hoop-de-do reminds me of this ditty I found at a gal's blog whom I find particularly acerbic and witty: