Maple Reach

A wonderful year of healing, bonding and growth.

Today is our first anniversary of Henry’s adoption. We’re also calling it his birthday, having no other information to the contrary. And what a great day it has been! Following our tradition of spending special days (and entirely ordinary days) at the beach, we headed to Manzanita for some sun, splashing and sculpture-making (Jamie, that is).

I can’t quite believe it has been a year since we brought Henry (Blue Valentine) home. He was a quiet, somewhat disabled, tentative-yet-velcro dog who wasn’t quite sure he could trust us but who wouldn’t let us out of his sight day or night.

It’s true what they say about a dog going through stages of becoming at home in a new place with a new family. Watching Henry’s progression from his adoption day through our first six months with him was nothing short of remarkable.

Henry’s Gotcha Day – 16 August 2021 and 16 August 2022

The past six months have gone by in a flash. That dog we had to lift up the three stairs in our house now races through it like a Border Collie doing weave poles. He takes morning constitutional runs in the pasture. He absolutely loves running on the beach (actually, he starts keening as soon as he smells the sea air, and doesn’t stop until he’s 100% certain that’s where we’re headed).

And the ball chasing. From the second his feet hit the sand, it’s all about the ball. Fetching (sort of), watching it roll downhill (following it until it stops, no matter how slowly it rolls) and, his new favorite, kicking and splashing the ball around in the shallow surf and tide pools.

He has adapted to having wrists that don’t bend by becoming extra flexible at the shoulders, elbows and toes. And if you weren’t keen on noticing dog gaits, you might not even know he had any sort of disability at all. At first we worried he would over-do it. Now we trust that he will let us know when he’s tired and needs a rest. He knows his limits and we let him call the shots.

People walking down the beach often smile — even chuckle — when they see him playing with his ball in the water, with me just standing there, Chuck-it in hand, watching. Honestly, he could go on like this for hours, amusing himself. We can walk away and he keeps an eye on us, but feels no need to follow until we call him (more like coax).

Henry is great with other dogs.

Every time we encounter a new dog, Henry demonstrates his excellent social skills. His approach, his sniffs, his immediate read on whether a dog is friendly or not and his casual “walk away” style if the other dog feels uncomfortable, is masterful. He’s befriended dogs who, according to their people, were afraid of other dogs. He has a calm, gentle confidence about him that allows dogs, both large and small, to approach him, yet it’s clear he’s not desperate for their attention. Same with people. He’ll just give a friendly “hello” and then go on doing whatever it is he wants to do. Once in a while he’ll play or engage in a bit of chase, but that’s not really his gig. It’s “hello” then “ok now I have a ball to attend to.”

This dog is chill.

While the personality changes in him have been more subtle these past six months compared to the first six, I feel comfortable saying we now know the real Henry, and Henry knows us — our timing, our weak spots, our language (from how to ask us for what he wants to the unspoken signals that suggest he might be coming with us in the car vs. staying home).

That last bit may be the most remarkable of them all. He came to us with separation anxiety. We couldn’t leave the house — heck, the room — without him becoming agitated. Today, when he sees us putting on our shoes to go outside, he runs and jumps onto the couch, his favorite napping spot, and watches closely. If we come over and scratch his chin and tell him “We’ll be back, you be good,” he wags his tail sweetly and lays down. If we so much as make a gesture toward the leash or say “Henry, do you…”, he’s at the door in a flash.

He no longer has to be in the same room with one of us. Now he has his own cadence of where he likes to roam, look out the windows and take naps throughout the day, no matter what we’re doing. And often he’s not near us at all. Even at bedtime! Now that it’s summer, at night he prefers to retire to his own bedroom: my office, where there’s a dog bed by the sliding glass door that offers a panoramic view of our yard and an air conditioning vent that blows right on him. Sometimes, in the wee hours, he’ll join us.

I think he thinks he’s in charge.

Helping Henry adjust to our way of life was remarkably easy. We didn’t do a great deal of special training. We just went about our lives and invited him to join us. Those first months we kept to a regular schedule so he always knew what to expect and when. Now, he has his own schedule and while we’re often a part of it, he’s also good at amusing himself.

I realize, however, that we have more work to do in terms of training. He knows the basic commands — he’s an extremely fast learner — but now that he’s feeling more in charge of his own destiny, he’s decided he doesn’t really need to come when we call him. He prefers to come when he feels like it (but, usually, when we use a “now I’m getting angry” voice, he acts as if he has just heard one of us say “come” for the first time). He’s pushing our buttons. He’s testing the boundaries. He’s being a confident dog. And that’s our cue to get some more training going.

Henry rescued us.

It’s not just a slogan for bumper stickers. Sometimes a dog comes into your life at a time when you need them most. This year has flown by, but it hasn’t always been easy on the humans. Henry has been there, steadfast, for us through it all. Despite his newfound independence, he’s also extremely affectionate, and loves snuggling on the couch. We’ve remarked that he’s never been a licker. His idea of giving you a kiss is smooshing his entire muzzle into your face. But in the last couple of weeks, he’s started giving little kisses. A lick on the hand to say “thank you” for something. That’s a huge deal for him. And for me. I feel honored. And we both feel incredibly fortunate to have this wonderful dog in our lives.

Another huge shout out to One Tail at a Time Portland (otatpdx.org), the organization that made our adoption of Henry — and his remarkable recovery — possible.

Happy Gotcha Day, Henry!