Progress

Despite the lightheartedness of previous entries into this blog life with Henry was hard work. I'm a really patient person when it comes to animals, realising that they cannot speak and usually any trouble they are in is due to us humans. So faced with a dog who had been so badly neglected as Henry my patience was super high.

My sleep levels weren't. Every night I would let Henry and Molly out for a pee last thing before we went to bed. I'd settle the dogs down on their beds, pull the living room door to and go to my own bed.

After five minutes Henry would get up, wander around and start to howl, bark, cry, whine, jump, run and generally cause havoc. Other Half had said he didn't want dogs in the bedroom so I had to close the door over but I think this was what was making Henry get all stressed. I persisted nonetheless as Molly was quite happy downstairs and I was sure Henry would settle in time.

The barking and howling was rather hard to sleep to though and it would go on for hours every single night, then he would settle down at about 2 or 3am only to start again at around 5.30am.

I'd get up at around 6ish, get a rapturous welcome of a two springing stripey hounds jumping up like mad things the moment I opened the door (Molly never used to do that) and find all sorts of deposits left for me by Henry.

It wasn't easy, as cleaning up dog poo, dog pee and avoiding getting jumped all over first thing in the morning by two very big dogs can test the patience of a saint, beleive me.

So after a few nights, Other Half decided he wasn't putting up with the howling and barking any more and he yelled at Henry to shut up at about 12.30am. It worked. I was amazed. But I still had to clear up the poo and pee the next morning, and avoid the mad jumping up and he was still starting to howl and bark at 5.30am.

My patience persisted though, and my progress was getting nowhere, at one point I decided I must be the most patient person in the world as surely no-one could be so sleep deprived and still happily clean up poo in their pyjamas at 6.40am ever morning.

I really didn't know what else to do other than be patient. I was sure Henry would settle down eventually, in the 6 months he had been alive he had been with his mother, then gone to another home, then left to wander and fend for himself, then picked up by the dog warden, put into the dog pound, put on death row, given a repreive by the lovely ladies at Greyhounds Galore, put into their kennel and and then come to live with me. That was five homes (that I know of) in six months and he was still really a big pup who no-one had bothered to socialise, train or let him know what was expected of him so to be patient with him was all I could do for him just now until he settled.