The light in the backyard turned to shadows as the horizon pulled down the sun. Shandy lay near the tree in the center of the yard. When I approached her, she rolled on her side, looked at me, then lifted her back leg inviting me to rub her belly.

I kneeled down and reached my hand toward her, but before my hand touched her, she lifted her lip and showed me her teeth. I instantly drew back, a shiver went down my spine. Our relationship was new then, about six weeks in from rescuing her from Carson Shelter in Los Angeles. She was volatile. I was still afraid of her.

Besides having been frightened by her show of teeth, her display of contradictions perplexed me. She invited me to rub her belly, then snarled at me? What was going on there? It took me a couple days thinking about this before I realized, I had just uncovered the key to helping her.

When I brought her home from the shelter, I didn’t know if she’d only be a backyard Chow. I’d never known a dog that wouldn’t come in the house. Now I knew, without a doubt, Shandy was going to be okay.

This single event clearly exposed her internal conflict.

I knew what needed resolved. Shandy had shown me she wanted love, but didn’t know how to receive it. It was super important for me to continue to be patience, stay calm, and consistent in order to earn her trust. I needed to prove I was trustworthy.

Shandy was smart, curious, innately sweet and cooperative. She never had people she could trust, and learned on her own how to effectively keep them away from her. I needed to get over my fear of her dramatic displays of self protection. I’d never been around a dog that made the most primitive sounds, snarl and snap. I wanted to help her, but my fear of her exposed my internal conflicts to her too! I didn’t know exactly how to approach any of this yet, but I’d identified what it was in her and in myself that needed healing. Since we both had things to work on, there was only one way through this…together.

One day I sat next to her on the floor in front of the armoire in the living room,after she finally lived in the house. A thought sparked, I turned my head to her and spoke out loud, “You know what, Shandy? I’m afraid of you, too. But it’s you and me and we’re going to have to figure this out together.” This wasn’t just about Shandy. This was about me, too. I was as much a part of this. From that moment on I considered us both when working on something new, or going through our daily activities. If I got frustrated, we stopped. When my patience gave out on a walk, we turned around and went home. If I didn’t have time to follow through on something I wanted to ask of her, then I didn’t ask.

Every interaction through the day mattered.

We worked slowly, at a pace I was comfortable with while introducing her to the right amount of challenge to give her something to think about, and explore a different choice, but not too much as to trigger a reaction. She was food motivated and curious in nature, both of these traits helped me have ways to work with her. Our motto became, “Together. We will do everything, together.”

We spent many hours each day watching each other, observing each other’s body language, getting to know one another those first weeks. I sat in the backyard on my computer, or did a little gardening so she could watch me without me asking anything from her. I wanted to show her what “normal” looked like—a friendly lady going about her business.

I often sat near her, and eventually beside her without talking to her, looking at her, or touching her. Shandy was near feral and she needed the opportunity to determine on her own I was safe. One afternoon, she was brave enough to approach me on her own.

She slowly left the safety of the garage where she sat in the doorway, and came over to where I lay on a blanket on the ground with my computer. I didn’t dare move or speak as she sniffed my feet, exploring me. Although I remained perfectly still, my heart was jumping with joy. Each of those seeming small moments were monumental. It was extraordinary to experience the first signs of what love can do to heal a broken little soul.

“Let Love Lead” ~ Joy Taylin