The Ins and Outs of Doors

His first night with us, Mojo didn't budge from his spot in the dining room. Well, he reversed position, but it didn't look like he had done anything else. He ate a few bites out of Jay's hand, but ignored the water bowl.

Sunday morning, when Jay decided to take out the garbage and leave through the front door (that is right in Mojo's sight line), it created a stir ... he backed himself up as far into the corner as he could go.

What was he thinking? Maybe he was afraid he was going to be hauled off again, put into yet another strange car, or strange home. It was, after all, the only door in our house he had experienced.

So, off to church we went, leaving him half on his new bed (only his behind has given it a bit of attention thus far), and half on the floor.

Leaving him there while we were in church was definitely an act of faith! Would he decide to get up and explore? Did I remember to leave the food far enough back on the counter tops (it's been years since we had dogs curious enough to pull food down for themselves, and I hadn't even given it any thought)? Did we close the basement door (we always do, but would this be the day it could have mattered if we didn't)? Will he eat the couch? Did I care if he did?

We definitely weren't concerned about him peeing (etc.) ... after all, we'd had a relatively incontinent senior dog in the house for the past several months, so we were pretty used to that. Not that we'd allow it long term, but until he figured out where the "out" door was and we figured out how Mojo would communicate the need, we knew the odds of a few accidents were high. Pee happens.

When we got home, he was almost where we found him; a little less scrunched up, but glued to his spot. We decided it was necessary to get him outside -- it is a beautiful day, and this dog needed a little fresh air.

It wasn't a Kodak moment -- he trembled, wet himself, and trembled some more, but once up and out the door, he was willing to walk with Jay for several laps around the yard. He stayed pretty low (in the first picture, look at how his back legs are positioned: he just goes belly down as if ready to do an Army crawl), but eventually he was getting the hang of it. Tons of smells, sights, and sounds to absorb, and he was in a constant state of alert. Who knows how many times it'll take before that tail will come out from between his legs.

He's beautiful, he's fragile ... and he's now a part of our family. It's unbelievably hard to not just want to scoop him up and hug him and pet him and coo in his ear. To ignore a Lab is a challenge ... one I'll confess I haven't mastered yet. I admit to random acts of petting and coo-ing.