The end of the experiment
Our experiment lasted four years, six months and a scattering of days and nights. Call it socialization, or accommodation or just plain stubborn meeting stubborn. Finally, call it over.
The first sign that there were issues beyond our means came with a decline in the number of visitors. Fewer friends, fewer family. Those that came were met with dire warnings; hardly a way to inspire confidence. “Keep your fingers in your pockets” followed “Hello”, although it interfered with ordinary activities such as eating, or talking, or picking up belongings when it was time to leave. Even business transactions were called to heel; the newspaper collection took place once a month, under duress.
Snide remarks on Facebook, fingers pointed in the street: the word was out. “Cross dog!” No sense calling in Cesar; he’s only real on TV.
Within the pack, a clear hierarchy. I stood above it all, apparently alpha (despite what old friends might believe). The others endured. Bared teeth, attitude, reluctance to step back from confrontation. It had nothing to do with the caching of food, the theft of Smarties. One “member of the family” was not fitting in. Apart from ecstatic welcomes, and the occasional visit to the foot of a bed, little love here. Our house became a fortified demesne.
In retrospect, there was no moment of crisis. We began to fear what “might happen”, and it outweighed the simple pleasure of a quiet companionship. As a group, there were discussions about the possibilities, along with a sad realization that certain things weren’t meant to be.
This morning, the dog made a final visit to the veterinary clinic.
