Wednesdays I scrub the floors, vacuum, dust everything, and sometimes de-clutter. That last is always a challenge. It seems the older I get, the more I cling to things that just peer up at me, without purpose. Which is fine, but then they begin to breed, and soon I can’t see the tabletops for the stuff nesting on them. So, I put what I’ll never need or use in a grocery bag saved for the purpose, and set it by the back door, ready to transport to Good Will for another person to delight in.
Anyway, when I was finally ready to vacuum, Bryn would always skedaddle with an exaggerated flourish to a room far away. Her behavior irritated me. How could I discourage it?
I love a challenge. So, I had a think.
The best way to approach objectionable behavior was to move inside her brain- to Be Bryn, just for a minute. There am I, dozing peacefully on the carpet, when suddenly the Boss drags the Monster out of the closet and into the space I’m in-- iieeee....! Best to get gone right quick. It never attacks, but that loud huffing roar is scary.
Ok. I got that. So, I decided to employ language she’d understand. I brought the vacuum out, fetched a damp paper towel with a sprit of Mr. Clean on it, and knelt before the quiescent machine. “Good girl. Let me brush you,” I said quietly, with a smile. (Bryn knows that phrase; she LOVES her daily brushing.) She watched with deep interest as I wiped the thing down briskly, then patted it fondly. (I know, I know. Dumb. But wait...) I rose, turned it on and began to vacuum, my back turned. She peered at it from a safe distance.
A bit later I took out a rug, shook it on the back porch; when I came in she was still leaning against the sofa, watching it carefully- wondering if I would reassure her.
She was ignored.
The payoff? Awesome.
I switched it on, patted it gently, and then pushed it around, gradually making my way closer. She stayed where she was. (I knew better than to get too close. Three feet was the limit. My gaze stayed glued to the vacuum. It roared. I pushed with predictable, slow, steady motions. Finished, I turned it off and patted it absently. “Good job! We’re all done...”
Bryn watched. I hugged myself, silently triumphant.
In the kitchen I quietly hopped around, grinning. Ahhh...the satisfaction was huge! She had abandoned behavior I’d refused to acknowledge.
Bryn couldn’t help but notice that
-I liked the machine.
-It was leashed. It never leaped.
-It was fond of carpet, and only carpet. So, why should she dash off like a scared rabbit? Clearly, the thing wasn’t into vacuuming a dog.
An hour later I brought it out again to hoover the area, reinforcing the lesson. From her carpet spot by the sofa she cocked an eye- and stayed put.
“Good work,” I muttered, patting the vacuum. Her ears pricked. Her head cocked. Thinking.
I shifted an upholstered chair and carried on cleaning. Finished at last, I knelt and quick-hugged the machine. “Good vac.” Then I reeled in the long leash-cord and stored it.
I still hadn’t acknowledged Bryn.
She yawned and ignored me. No threat here, so no reassurance necessary.
It was all ho-hum.
Wonderful! Another challenge met and sorted- for both of us!
The next day, though, she was introduced to the Ultimate Monster Machine- our red Stella motorcycle, complete with sidecar. This machine was an order of magnitude louder. It burped, jerked, clanked, shuddered and coughed. And by golly, it could roar. Would she trust our judgment? Would she remember the vacuum lesson- where all that sound and fury had signified nothing? She’d sat in this sidecar once last fall to pose for pictures when we’d brought it home. It was silent, then. Now, having brought it out of storage, we’d all ride in it to the beach for a nice swim.
I leashed her, and brought her near. She slunk away, refusing my invitation to come sniff it. No, Boss. It stinks of gas...I don’t like this thing... no, and that’s flat.
I ignored her obvious dismay. She was told to sit and stay while Joe and I wheeled it out of the garage into the alley. She obeyed very reluctantly, wanting with all her heart to bolt back into the garden.
“Oh, boy, we’re gonna go to the beach in style!” I patted the machine, then hugged it. Exactly as I’d done to the big, noisy vacuum.
Her head cocked. She remembered, but wasn’t even a little bit convinced.
Every inch of her wanted to bolt; I saw her tremble as she fought to keep the commandments: “Sit. Stay.”
Boss is nuts. No way. Run!
She stayed, though. Stiff, and leaning toward gone.
Joe and I agreed on a strategy. “You get into the sidecar, and then I’ll lift her in,” he commented. “She won’t hop in. Look at it from her perspective. This sidecar’s as alien as the Orson Wells Mars Monster. For now, I’ll simply lift her in, with the engine off.”
Right.
I got in, dangled my legs out the sides of the sidecar, and smiled cheerfully at Bryn. Joe gathered her up and gently inserted her as far into the hole as possible, while I praised her quietly. It was like maneuvering a 53-pound stone. Only trust and love kept her from fleeing to China. Her body and legs were unbending, iron-stiff; her eyes were dinner plates. She occasionally trembled. But- she didn’t leap out. She wanted to, more than anything, but she didn’t. If she detected even a little tension on my part, the jig would be up. I focused on being calm, cool, collected. Even ho-hum bored...
Patting her briefly I gently maneuvered her fully extended clawed paws off the seat cushion and onto the sidecar’s floor. With her legs locked, that took awhile. I murmured into her ear. “Good girl.” She didn’t even blink, just stared into space. I held on to her harness with a light touch and nodded to Joe. We held our breath, and he turned the key.
ROARRR! Clank! Rattle! Cough! Shudder! Smelly burp! Then, silence. Another try. The second time was the charm. He let it run for a bit. As it warmed up, the noise level lessened. Bryn stood stiffly in the smallish space, between my bare legs, horrified. Her eyes locked onto mine, pleading, NO.NO. I smiled and looked away, projecting relaxation, ignoring her distress. Oh, That was hard. But it was important for her to see that I wasn’t bothered. My hands stayed relaxed as I held her harness on both sides, and gently fingered her coat.
Then Joe put it in gear and we moved out slowly. I grinned and let out a familiar word: “Wheee!”
She stared at nothing, and tried not to poop on the floor. We trundled down the alley at walking speed, feeling every bump and pothole. Rock-stiff, head low, she endured. I patted her sides and grinned as Joe moved faster.
Bumpity-bump: we slowly rode on our dippy brick street to Union Street, then turned down an alley that led to another quiet, tree-lined street where the courthouse sat. After a minute or two Bryn’s nose unfroze and began to twitch. Fascinating odors wafted by as we moved along at about 10 mph. Then, after clunking over a decent bump, with the end of the world still not happening, she raised her head and began to look around. Two people walked an elderly retriever along the tree-lined sidewalk. She took it in, forgetting for a second where she was. Good.
Ker-bumps. More mini-bounces. Stop signs. Motor coughs. Rough roars. Gear shifts--- and still, the world didn’t end. Suddenly, I felt her body relax.
This could be FUN!
The best part, though, was when she finally relaxed and sat, and then looked up at me and grinned. Got it, Boss. Monster is fine.
I nodded, smiling. “Good girl.” I patted the sidecar’s sidewall. “Good bike.” It wouldn’t do to over-praise either one; this was ho-hum stuff.
She stuck her nose up high so as not to miss anything, then hung it out one side to sample the world.
I admit I got a bit tearful, but not so she’d notice. It was just so sweet a victory.
At the beach I gave the ‘wait’ command and climbed out first. Then, released, she hopped out. We swam and frolicked for a half hour. Tired, we tramped back to our cool transportation. She popped back into the sidecar and arranged herself comfortably between my legs, which dangled out the sides to provide her maximum room.
Let’s hit the road, Boss! Wheeeee!
What’s next? I’m considering goggles for three, down the road- just for fun!