In January my world became a nightmare. My husband was diagnosed with a rare aggressive form of bile duct cancer. It only took two months from diagnosis before he died. Somewhere in the middle of this my 13 year old golden had a seizure and subsequent strokes and passed on as well. My world was shattered in an instant it seemed like. Without children or family around the days stretched into a vast emptiness that nothing seemed able to fill. And against all advice, against every piece of advice I received about not making a major decision for a year, I decided to get a dog.

This prospect of getting a dog was not as easy as it seemed. The Humane Society didn't seem to have any that I wanted and it was always the Humane Society I had purchased my dogs and cats from over the years. I didn't want a puppy and I didn't want a large dog. I tried one dog from a rescue organization but he chased the cat relentlessly and I had to give him up when the cat moved into the high kitchen cupboard and refused to come out. I poured over all the ads in kijiji, and all the rescue organization websites but there were none that suited me. I was in abject despair. The Humane society of Aylmer had only one smaller dog and it looked like a hairy little wild-eyed chihuahua, a drowned rat almost. I refused to go
see it but my friends insisted we just go have a look. "Just for fun," they insisted so I dragged myself together and off we went.

And there was Benson. He was magnificent. A fluffy beautiful dog with a tail curled up over his back and a great red mane and a set of intelligent eyes that matched the colour of his coat. He, like me, took terrible pictures obviously. He barely resembled the picture on the website. He leapt with enthusiasm up into the air with the handler who brought him out. But with me he was shy. Nervous. Exactly as described in the write-up. A nervous shy dog who once he got to know you would be a lovely companion. He arrived at the Humane Society after his master died. My heart of course knew he was the one. We would grieve together, little Benson and I. He would cuddle on my lap and we would watch Netflix and wander off into the green hills for walks. That's what I thought.

When he got home he found the "cage" and stayed there. He stayed there all day and all night and I had to drag him forcefully from the cage to do his business after all methods of bribery, coaxing and pleading failed to work. He stayed in his cage for two days. On the third day he would come out but when he saw me he ran back to his "room". On the fourth day he would take a treat if it was four feet away. On the fifth day he would take it if it was two feet away. On the sixth day he took it from my hand. I think I might have cried with joy at that. It was slow persistent calmness that won him over eventually. One day I put him on my lap and he leapt off. Then he leapt back on and off again of his own accord, as if to say, "see, I can do it myself if I want to". Trouble is, he didn't want to. And getting the leash on him was impossible even though he loved his walks. I gave him little toys and tried to play with him but he would just sit there looking balefully at me. Then one day he just leapt onto my lap and stayed. And the next day he brought me the toy we were playing with. He suddenly remembered how to play.

And he began following me. Everywhere I went. One room to the next, out onto the deck, into the yard. At my feet constantly. He fell in love with me. And only me. People would come to visit and he would growl terribly. One friend found the only way she could move from her perch on the couch was to announce to Benson, now named Vincent, what she was doing. "I'm going to the kitchen now Vincent," she would announce and he seemed to accept this. She spent the weekend announcing her every intention. I eventually taught people not to hug me when they arrived but to shake my hand because that would show Vincent that we were friends and he didn't need to protect me. A hug, I had read, could be interpreted as a threat by a dog. This hand-shaking worked oddly enough. It worked even better if I could get my visitors to pretend to sniff the air, as I had also read, but there are few people who would stoop so low. This was a method of teaching dogs not to be aggressive with visitors. It also seemed to work. I also had to gently tell people not to use their baby falsetto high-pitched voice when talking to him. He has very big ears and doesn't seem to like that. I also taught them not to approach him but to allow him to approach them. These were small tricks that all worked well on such a bright little fellow.

But he was nipping at people's heels. Not good. They would turn around and he'd rush over and nip, not harshly. This was definitely not good. I finally actually caught him in the act and yelled at him. He has never done it since. He's a smart little dog. I tell him to stop barking and he does. The fact that he was barking was remarkable in and of itself: it took Vincent a week to make any sort of noise and another week to actually make a noise other than a growl. Now, he will make his way over to visitors and give them a little lick. This takes a bit of time but at least it's not a growl or a nip. And he ignores the cat. The cat seems perturbed that he ignores her but is slowly adjusting.

In short, I almost gave up on Vincent in those early days when he wouldn't come out of his cage. When he was so obviously depressed he didn't know or want to play or even go for a walk. Now I have what is a remarkable, bright, loving little dog who makes me smile every single day. He loves his walks. Together we have come a long way. I believe the people and volunteers at the Humane Society gave Vincent a fighting chance by working with him for the whole six weeks he was there. All Vincent needed was someone to give him a place to call home and who would never leave him. He is now the love of my life and I am his and nothing can top that.

My next battle will be grooming. He does not like it. Nope. He doesn't. But I will win this battle of wills, eventually, with patience. It's worked so far. Fingers crossed.

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