I had just sat down, literally, when an after hours call came out from the local shelter about a “Fox” looking dog that had stopped eating, was excessively thin and severely depressed. I took one look at the picture, grabbed my purse and said I was on my way. A hour later I was back home with Breanna aka Foxy.
The first hurdle was introducing her to the “transition” crate. This is a crate I use for all new animals that come into the household and L.F.R.A. It is not ever shut and remains open so they can go in or out as they want to, but allows them a place to rest until THEY are comfortable. This sits next to the ever faithful and oh so stained and ragged “transition” recliner. Foxy had no clue what to make of the crate and first instinct was to have a panic attack, it was short lived and I just sat with her through it until it passed. It seemed this panic attack and riding the waves of it until over was a key turning point for her.
First there was lots of kisses given from both sides. I love the look she gave getting caught giving them.
Though T.J. is a bit miffed at her now, after finishing her mighty dog she went in and stole the rest of his canned cat food.
For a while she had decided to come out and enjoy the transition chair beside me at desk tonight, but then hopped down and went into the crate to curl up on her big fluffy princess blanket. Though if I move she’s up, tail wagging and curious to what I’m up to. Tomorrow I will work on treating some “worry” sores she’s given herself on inside legs and around one nipple due to obsessive grooming, and we will see how she does with a bath and nail clipping. She’s a bit smelly and those nails definitely need a trim job.