Banjo’s Resistance

You guys have asked so nicely how Banjo is adapting, and she really is doing fine. Don’t ask her though; according to her the world is just not right. And, she has her subtle (and heck, overt) ways of letting us know that we’re not in the Airstream, we’re not spending most of our time outside, and she is not happy about any of it.

Some of her initial habits in the apartment have persisted, for example that she still can’t wrap her head around a closed door (pun intended). She’ll lie right outside one and make quiet noises the entire time you’re behind it, trying to, say, have an important phone conversation with your doctor on the other side. I’m sure she’ll learn, but I think she’s encountered a closed door just a handful of times so far. Time to start closing more doors!

She’s also still playing with toys, which has changed from nervous energy, I think, to her way of showing us she’s displeased and wants attention/feeding/walking/her way in general.

This toy here local friend Patti gave her years ago when we visited Madison, and back then when we offered it to her, she looked at us like we’d offered her a stinky diaper to eat. She simply did not chew sticks, chase balls, play with toys at all. Since she started playing with the toy in our apartment welcome packet, we brought out Patti’s just in case we could get a photo of her with it, and danged if Banjo doesn’t give it a good chew fairly often. Just to show us!

When that’s not enough to get our attention, and life is too unfair, she will sit and moan. This is her typical moan stance. She’s not outside in the sunshine! She’s not up on the sofa with us! (She’s not allowed.) She isn’t on one of the four walks Tracy takes her a day! Oh, the horror.

She’s also been doing that husky-talk/yowling sound when she wants something or is displeased with the current state of affairs, which we tried to shush at first because dogs are supposed to be quiet in this apartment complex. Heck, now we know Banjo is about the quietest dog here, so we don’t bother.

Here she’s sitting in front of the door because Tracy and I have literally just placed our forks on the table after eating, so the post-lunch dog walk needs to commence, immediately. Seconds later when we didn’t hop to it, she gave a little yowl.

The kitchen is now a tricky place for her (previously we didn’t really have a kitchen). She started out following behind us so closely waiting for dropped food that she got backed-into and yelled at. So here she is watching Tracy cook lunch, ears cocked just in case he calls her in to clean up spilled food.

I have a feeling he will simply reinstate his old OUT OF MY KITCHEN command he used in the Maryland house with all his foster dogs. Or, maybe Banjo is smart enough to stay out while he’s in there. She is learning all of this very quickly.

For winter, we’ve ordered her a new coat, but it’s been delayed and we’re slightly concerned. Banjo is tricky to fit because her chest is deep (and she’s not one to take into a pet store for a fitting), plus we like to attach her leash to the front of her harness; few dog coats have openings there. You can see above what a problem that creates.

The best dog coat ever was one I inherited from my sister (like so many of the “best” things I had) because it’s shaped like a horse blanket, basically a rectangle of blanket with straps across the chest and under the ribs, no fancy collar or leash hole or doggie coat anything. We’ve ordered one kind of like that, so we shall see.

I better finish up those blog post; Banjo is staring at me. But, if I try to take a photo to show you, she will turn away, because how dare I.