Now, in all the hub-bub over the arrival of The Boy, the Amazing Sushi was kinda lost in the shuffle for a while. This is unfortunate and must be rectified.
It is perhaps understandable that Sushi and a lot of other important persons, issues, problems, thoughts, etc., got shunted aside for a while when the Boy first got here; because his arrival was such a big change for us all. But this neglect can be allowed to persist no longer. Sushi must get equal time! (Well, not necessarily "equal"...but her rightful share.)
And yes, you are right: people who publish web pages dedicated to their pets are luuuuzers. If you have arrived at that conclusion, it is the correct one. But those people do not have Sushi for a pet. Sushi is different. And if this page makes you think I'm a luuuuzer, that's fine. Sushi must have her day, nonetheless. The hell with what you think.
When Ian came, Sushi willingly and quietly set her own needs aside—and without having to be asked or told to. She was, especially in the early weeks, given far less attention than she was used to. We usually give her more attention than she wants—she likes her independence and sometimes seems less dependent on our love than we are on hers. But I have no doubt that, in those early days, our level of attention to Sushi dropped below not just what she was used to enduring, but actually below what she wanted. But she never made an issue of it and certainly never held it against The Boy—which would have been easy to do. After all, he was the one who was getting not just his own share of attention but some of what was rightfully hers, as well.
Well, now she's once again getting her share of attention from us...and from the Boy, whose eyes light up and whose face breaks out in the biggest grin (bigger than he gives for either Adrienne or me!) whenever Sushi wanders within petting distance. Ian loooooves to touch Sushi; but, of course, at this stage, "touching", for Ian (who does not yet make subtle distinctions) usually involves thumping, kicking, grabbing, poking and other forms of what is commonly referred to in local, state and federal ordinances as "assault".
Ian's gotten Sushi good on more than one occasion, mostly by yanking her hair—a pastime, by the way, that he does not reserve exclusively for the canines with whom he interacts: he's gotten us (mostly Adrienne) pretty good, too. ("Hey man, ya stick that curly hair in mah face and expect me NOT to yank it? Where you from?") Sushi has never, ever made an attempt to nip at him in warning. She did not have to be warned not to do that, not even once. She knew from the beginning that The Boy was special. He is special to her, too.
In fact, we spend most of our time defending Sushi from the Boy. Sushi is smart enough to stay just outside of The Boy's reach when she visits him. But sometimes on weekends when we're all in bed in the morning, we will pull Sushi closer, over to where Ian can actually reach her (Ian loves the feel of her soft fur), but we will make sure he does not poke, kick, or hit her, or pull her hair, or try to put her paw in his mouth. (He has this thing about feet.)
There are very few things that get on Sushi's nerves: thunder scares her and she barks back at each clap she hears; she intensely dislikes the loud noises made by fireworks—she also barks back at them; inexplicably, she is intensely annoyed by the sound of a skateboard (or in-line skates) and barks at those noises as well. Not much else bugs her.
She is used to being indulged in expressing her impatience at and fear of these things. But when The Boy is napping or in bed for the night, she can't be allowed this indulgence because it might wake him. She has endured a number of stern lectures from us for doing what she used to be allowed to do with relative impugnity. She is confused by the sudden interdiction on these avenues of expression. She doesn't understand what she is doing wrong. And that's because she's not doing anything wrong. Thunder scares her; she deals with her fear by barking back: a show of bravery in the face of fear. When The Boy is asleep, we make her stop, usually, at first, with a stern warning. This is unfair to her; but she makes the effort, knowing that, in some way, this involves the Boy, and that she must adapt.
We got Sushi when she was 3 years old because her Former Owner ("FO" hereafter) got pregnant and was going to be a single Mom; she could not take care of both the baby and the dog. FO loved Sushi and had raised her by hand from birth (Sushi was the runt of the litter and had been rejected by her mother). Giving Sushi to us tore FO up.
Before giving Sushi up, I'm sure FO started to accumlate baby stuff. Sushi saw all this stuff coming in the house; a few weeks later, Sushi was given away.
Before Ian came, we started to accumlate baby stuff. Both Adrienne and I wondered if Sushi's odd behavior —a slight sluggishness, as though she were depressed —before Ian came was due to the fact that she associated the arrival of the baby stuff with the inevitable rejection of Sushi herself. Did she think we were going to make her leave? How do you make your dog understand that you would never do that?
If she did think she was on the way out, Adrienne and I take comfort in the fact that, at least now, Sushi is aware that she's here to stay...whether she wants that or not. She's not going anywhere. Not anytime soon. Not anytime in the distant future. Never.
Some dog owners feel that, once you have a child, your relationship with your dog inevitably changes. You still love your dog. But once the kid comes, dogs "become just dogs."
I used to think this was probably a fair assessment and, yes, even inevitable. But I haven't found it to be the case. When Ian first came and we were giving less attention to Sushi than she was used to, I always felt more like I was neglecting an older child in favor of a younger one who needed more attention for a while. I felt Sushi was still entitled to the level of attention and love she had been used to getting before Ian arrived. Now that she is beginning to get that level of attention once again, it feels right. It feels as though the right balance is back and disequilibrium has once again been banished. And now there's yet another Gardner in the house who loves his doggie and wants to give her maybe a little bit more attention than, strictly speaking, she might be comfortable with. But it was that way already when it was just Adrienne and myself and Sushi: she just quietly endured our excess of affection. The Boy is picking up the slack now. The time we take from Sushi to spend with him she is now getting in attention from him.
An anecdote that will prove to you that Sushi is the Greatest Dog in the World:
When Sushi travels with us, she used to like to sit up front with us in my lap (Adrienne usually drives); but now, with the Boy in the back in his car seat, she sometimes opts to sit back there with him.
One time Adrienne had to go out while I was at work. She had to drop Sushi off at her parents' for some reason or other, then go to some store or other. On this trip, Sushi chose to sit in the back seat with The Boy.
After Adrienne dropped Sushi off, she went to the store and was holding Ian in her arms. The foax in the store, of course, made a big fuss over Ian (it is, after all, his due). One woman looked at Ian's little balled-up fists and asked "What have you got there?"
Turns out in each fist he had a small tuft of Sushi's fur.
That's right: he had been grabbing her fur in the back seat and had managed to get himself two nice handfuls of it as souvenirs. Now, Sushi seems to shed all the time (without, curiously enough, ever actually losing any hair volume--she's always very puffy and full, no matter how much she sheds), so Ian really didn't have to yank too hard to get the strands he did.
But the point is he did do this to her, and did it twice, something she must not have enjoyed, to put it mildly, yet was so quiet about it that Adrienne had no idea it had even happened until well after the fact. Sushi had not nipped at Ian or in any way complained at the discomfort he must have been causing her.
So Adrienne and I still love our dog and so does Ian. If this page makes us luuuuuzers, we'll gladly cop to that accusation and just continue to love our doggie and our Boy and not care who knows.
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