
My partner and I decided to move to a new apartment because our previous building was not welcoming to my dogs.
During the pandemic, when the building was half-empty, having dogs was acceptable, as other tenants were allowed to have pets.
I have two.
We lived on the top floor, the only tenant left, along with the staff quarters. The staff kept changing, and Crocker and Phi Phi would bark at anyone new. I’m diligent about cleaning the area where Crocker spends his days.
Everything changed when the pandemic ended. There were more tenants and as they frequented our floor where the common laundry area was, my dogs barked.
They’re dogs.
When the building caretaker visited once a month to collect rent, my dogs would bark at her relentlessly. She expected my dogs to know her when they only saw her once a month.
And when another tenant moved in with a full-bred shih tzu, and the caretaker didn’t say anything about the dog owner not cleaning up after their pet in the common areas, I realized what the issue was. She didn’t like my dogs because they are not full-bred.
I had enough of dealing with people who are racists, bigots, and homophobes. I didn’t want to deal with someone who judges pets by their pedigree. I pleaded with my partner to look for another apartment.
Crocker
I adopted Crocker only two months after we got Phi Phi. A decision I sometimes regret. I wasn’t ready. I also didn’t anticipate that we were only renting and that the pandemic would eventually end.
Although Crocker gets the same attention, he doesn’t sleep with us like Phi Phi, who became our baby.
I never thought that one day I would share my bed with a dog.
But somehow, Phi managed to make her way into our bed since she arrived as a two-month-old puppy. As for Crocker, when I rescued him, he was quite aggressive and it took me a week to even touch him.
He was ok until he wasn’t, and now I understand why.
New Home
When we moved, I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision.
This year, I was sick. I haven’t been the same, and there were moments when I questioned even my decision to be with my partner at this stage of my life.
When I met him, it was the pandemic, and when everything returned to normal, I often asked myself if this was all “pandemic love?”
The voices in my head raise a lot of questions.
And there are days when I can’t function or show love to my dogs.
Moving to a new home was a lot of stress. Phi didn’t show any signs of anxiety. She thrived in the bigger place. Our new apartment is a two-story house with stairs that Phi loves to run up and down.
It was Crocker who had a hard time adjusting. He constantly barked, peed, and pooped everywhere inside the house. It made me very upset.
When I’m angry, I know it isn’t just about what triggered me, it is about something deeper within me.
We didn’t know where to put Crocker, good thing the house had a laundry area with a big-sized storage room we didn’t need which had enough space for Crocker, his bed, and his toys.
As soon as he saw someone go down, he became noisy. It got to the point where he showed signs of being aggressive again, and we didn’t know if we needed to give him up.
When we got the lease, the owner only said we could keep one dog, but I asked for consideration. He allowed us to keep our dogs as long as the neighbors didn’t complain.
With Crocker’s constant barking, it was stressing me.
But every time we considered giving up on Crocker, it pierced through my heart.
I failed.
It was the voice in my head again.
Taking care of Crocker was more time-consuming compared to Phi, who, with very little training, knew exactly what she needed to do. She’s low maintenance.
It only took a miracle that Crocker remained with us.
Unlike Phi, Crocker is afraid of the rain, the sound of thunder, and loud noise. While Phi would only bark, Crocker would cry.
One night, there was a storm and while he wouldn’t get wet inside his room, his cries prompted me to let him in, even if that meant he would be peeing. I also need to reassure him by touching him until the rain stops.
Phi doesn’t like it when Crocker goes into our bedroom.
So, Crocker had to stay in the living room. After the storm, it was a blessing in disguise.
Crocker’s behavior changed.
The power of touch
I started to let him inside the house during the daytime. I would constantly carry him to the laundry area whenever I felt it was time for him to pee, and he didn’t like it, because I would carry him out.
It was a constant push and pull between us.
It’s only been a month since Crocker has shown significant improvement. Now, he follows my instructions if I ask him if he wants to pee.
I don’t need to carry him out. I always let him in again after he finishes, and he would even choose not to go back inside. While accidents still happen, it no longer upsets me.
Crocker has his own charm.
I noticed that he craved one thing from us — touch.
Unlike Phi who doesn’t bark even if you wake her up, Crocker used to bark when you accidentally walked over him while he was asleep. At nighttime, he would sometimes growl when you are around his space.
So, I never gave him as much touch as I gave Phi.
But today, the first thing I do when I let him in, which is at 4 am when I wake up, is cuddle him, and tap his head before he runs away to go to Phi, even if Phi barks at him.
During the day, he would come and ask me to belly rub him, and whenever Phi would try to get near us, he would growl and make sounds. He would even fall asleep or pretend he was sleeping so I wouldn’t stop touching him.
We have come a long way.
The voices in my head would still talk to me about how I’m failing as a fur parent.
As it was when I was one of my Mom’s caregivers, had I done enough? Could I have done more for her?
It was the best I could have done, and I know Mom knew that.
And it is the best that I could do for Phi and Crocker now. I will never be 100% ok, and I will never be. And I should take the lesson that both Crocker and Phi are teaching me, that it is ok not to have a perfect relationship.
In our moments of imperfection, that is when we should be ready to show love. And with my dogs, it is as giving them the simple power of touch.
Neither are they perfect and so am I.
Thank you for reading.
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This psot was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
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The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer |
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Photo credit: iStock.com
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism
Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box
The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer
