The Invisible Line

A few months ago we got a dog. Realistically we got a dog to replace our Xoloitzcuintli who died and comfort ourselves and our Chihuahua who no longer had another dog in the house. Even though Sophie, the Chihuahua, never seemed to care about other dogs and is an introvert who likes ignores other dogs but loves to sleep, preferably on someone’s lap.

We know little of the Corgi-mix dog that we got. For ten days, before he was with us, he was a with a woman (in her seventies?) who couldn’t keep him because she couldn’t take him for walks – and she lived in a mobile home community with almost no grass. We know she got him from the pound, where he was promplty neutered. So we know that Oliver – the name he came with from the kindly woman, and the name we’re using – has a lot of trauma and a lot of separation anxiety.

There’s a lot to teach Oliver. It seems like the biggest, and hardest, lesson is to sit and stay. Especially important things like to stay out of the kitchen.

It seems like there’s an invisible line we don’t want him to cross. It reminds of the eruv, an invisible boundary under Jewish law to allow Jews to continue to have functionally and essential personal items otherwise not allowed during the Sabbath.

Oliver can be a family dog. He has energy that a young dog should have, he has chosen his favorite human, he’s happy to sit next to us on the couch, likes going places, and likes having a home.

He just needs to learn that there are some rules, and that’s he’s not actually in charge.