My sister is visiting me this week.  This means that Bella is having to contend with another being in the house.  It doesn't seem to matter that this being looks a lot like me; to Bella, her presence is a matter of concern.  When I was in the bedroom with Bella, and she heard my sister moving in the bathroom across the hall, Bella gave me a meaningful and concerned look, as if to say, Who is that?  Will she hurt me?   Of course I told Bella that the person is only my sister, and poses absolutely no danger, even though she is a dedicated cat person.

Generally, it seems as if Bella has become more fearful outside, rather than less.  Our walks, although frequent, are shorter.  While I comfort myself with the thought that as Bella increasingly identifies with my house as her home, and prefers the comfort of our bedroom space, she seems to view the outdoors as a place of potential danger even more than she did originally.  If we see a person, or if the neighbor dog barks-charging at its invisible fence across the street from us-Bella can no longer get her outdoor business done.  Now, with my sister visiting, Bella often doesn't poop until the quiet of twilight.

Bella's pulling on her leash has become more fearsome again as well.  I tried a "gentle leader" but Bella seemed to hate it; arching her neck like a prancing horse, and moving even faster than ever.  My arm and shoulder are sore, and I think sooner or later she is going to pull me down.  Or I'm going to trip-a certainty once the snow and ice come.  I am now using two leashes on her halter, one hooked in front and one on top.  It helps some, but Bella's rushing is hard to handle.  

Once, as my sister stepped out of sight so that Bella could move through the house to the front door, I clipped her leash on in our bedroom instead of at the front door like I usually do.  This evidently disoriented the cats who usually like to arrange themselves as if they were watching a parade when Bella comes through.  This time, my black cat, Circe, was caught off guard.  Standing in her place on the hall rug, she made herself into a perfect halloween cat.  Bella, who pays almost no attention to the cats ordinarily, saw Circe on her runway, and made a sharp 180 degree turn back to the bedroom.  Now Circe, who did not need any encouragement to begin with, is certain that she is top cat.

A certain sweetness seems to be waking up in Bella.  Her expressions are more tuned in, curious, and gentle.  I am convinced that she is a good natured dog.   Her ears are perky  when I talk with her, and she often tilts her head to one side watching me, quizzically.  I love it when she pops into sitting position and looks at me in bed.  I am told that it will be 6 to 12 months before I see her personality revealed.  Already I've see cooperativeness, even in fear, and a timid enthusiasm.  She now takes treats readily from my hand.  I can't remember the last time I had to place the treat in front of her instead.  She continues to come to the front door every time I call her for one of her mini walks.  I  pet her a little bit when I give her her pills hidden in little liverwurst balls.  Sometimes she closes her eyes slightly with pleasure, leaning into my hand.

I lay an easter egg hunt of treats out on the bedroom floor frequently.  Two weeks ago, even one week ago, she might ignore them most of the day.  Yesterday, she watched place a treat on the cushion near her bed, on the floor near the closet, on the floor near her dish.  As soon as I sat at my desk to resume my work, she got up and ate them one by one.  

Outside she seems to be consistently fearful.  It is best if we don't see a car, person, or dog.  Even if we don't, she keeps her walks short, and hurries back on the way home.  Her pulling is worse: she is more insistent.  Most of her day is still spent quietly on her bed.  At night I hear a lot of scratching.  I am dying to bathe her, but I think I will try brushing her instead.  In the morning I find tufts of black hair.  After a walk I sometimes hook her outside so that I can run the vacuum.  Her bed is filthy with tufts of hair and moist areas from her panting.  As I write, she is quiet, no panting, and we are both enjoying the morning stillness.

The tip of the tail went up and down three times!  Same occasion as yesterday-when I offered her her pills hidden in liverwurst!  BELLA WAGGED HER TAIL!!!  I am emotional, as I knew I would be.
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Bella gets her pills in little balls of liverwurst.  After I give them to her, I sometimes scrunch her neck fur, and briefly pet her shoulders and back.  Last night, as I touched her, the tip of her tail lifted and went back down.  It was subtle, but it absolutely happened.  She wasn't adjusting her position or tucking her tail.  Just a small lift and and then down-a whisper of a tail wag.

I noticed that Bella's Seresto collar was surprisingly tight.  She let me loosen it cooperatively without showing any sign of feeling alarmed.  I think her neck has grown!  All the good food and the boatloads of treats have made an impact.  Or maybe it's the pulling she does on the return section of our walks.  Either way, her collar is now properly fitted and hopefully she won't feel the need to scratch as much.

Bella doesn't sniff on our walks, but yesterday she looked up for a squirrel as it passed, and at the deer that stared at us before moving out of sight.  Whatever stress may have been stimulated by her blind date last Friday is gone.  She is back to moving around the room fairly comfortably when I am there-most easily if I ignore her, or at any time I don't direct my attention her way.  Even though she prefers that I not stare at her, she likes to stare at me.  She watches me as I work at my computer, or when I get dressed.  If I am reading in bed, she seems to figure that I am no longer a concern, although if I move, or talk to the cat, she might pop into sitting position at the foot of my bed and look at me.

I'm not often in the mood for music, but today I was.  I was singing along in a loud voice when I heard some noise coming from the bedroom.  It sounded like grunting.   I peeked in, and there was Bella, rolling.  She was on her back, on her bed, energetically twisting to one side and then another like a big, black bear rubbing it's back against a tree trunk.  I like to think she was in good mood, too.  

There has also been an advance in the chewing department.  I gave her a pigs ear yesterday.  Usually she ignores it for quite a while, and when I next notice, it is gone.  This time she took the ear cheerily and began munching.  She really got into it, slightly lifting one paw from time to time as if to pin down her prey. She seemed to be enjoying herself heartily. Today, when I gave her a lambs ear, she took it immediately, smiled at me, and began to chomp away. 

Bella has figured out what to do with pigs' ears, and she doesn't mind chewing in front of me.  You go, girl!

There is a mysterious little film, taken on a phone, of Bella playing with two Bernese dogs in her last home.  Like the awakenings described by Oliver Sacks when he administered L-Dopa to patients, Bella is surprisingly normal in this scene.  According to Ellie, Bella's first reaction to being freed from the puppy mill and introduced to her other dogs was delight.  After that, Bella went into shut down.  Did the trauma and deprivation of her history take over and drown out the moments of play?  Who knows.  

I decided to try introducing Bella to another Bernese.  Galen brought over her 15 month old Bernese boy and held him in my back yard on a leash.  After I petted Beau, I went into the house to call Bella out to meet him.  The plan was to hold the dogs on loose leashes, across the yard from the door and Bella's turf, and allow the two dogs to meet if Bella was so inclined. 

Bella didn't come to the door immediately when I called her.  She must have already sensed something.  I went back to our room and approached Bella where she lay on her bed.  I held out my hand for her to sniff.  When I did, she pulled back slightly, clearing noting the different smell I carried from Beau.  Doggie testosterone?  Set in my intention, I encouraged her to come to the door as I always do- calling her name, and clicking the leash.   Bella did come, but circled back several times before she finally met me in the foyer.  It crossed my mind to abandon the plan, but Galen had gone to the trouble to bring Beau, my hope was that when Bella saw Beau, the memories of play with the other dogs would come back to her, in an awakening.  The image of what I hoped for and my intuitive trepidation crisscrossed in my mind like alternative story endings.  I clicked on Bella's leash and we stepped outside as usual.

Except it wasn't the usual, and Bella knew this immediately.  She knew it when I called her name the first time, before I even went back to her room.  She always comes when I call her to the door.  She didn't this time.  No blind dates, mommy, she wanted to say. 

Beau whimpered excitedly.  As soon as I opened the door, Bella tucked her tail and pulled me off the porch.  We moved as far away from Beau as possible.  We circled the house through the front yard.  Back to the door, back to her room in a quick dash.  Beau remained deep in the back yard, leashed, the whole time.  The dogs never made contact.  Not only that, Bella has been more suspicious since.   She comes to the door more hesitantly, and in my room, she returns to her bed more often when she sees me, or when I move, even though she prefers the cool cement floor.  

​Darn.

I caught Bella sniffing.  Sniffing.  She hasn't done that before.  Over the past few days, I've been leaving treats on the floor of the bedroom, scattered here and there, to encourage her to walk around and explore.  (Thanks for the tip, Karolin!)  Sometimes the crunchy, dried bits of lung or liver remain on the floor.  But then, they are gone.  Last night, while I was reading in bed, Bella popped up into a seated position, looked at me for a moment, contemplating.  She must have decided it would be ok to move around with me there because she got up and began sniffing the floor by her water bowl.  Then she sniffed the floor by the dresser.  Sniff, sniff around the chair-looking for treats!  Bella is using her doggie nose, and has begun to realize what a very fine tool it is.  Very fine indeed.

Bella is more comfortable with me, although she doesn't like having her tail wiped, or ears and butt gently cleaned.  She will tuck her tail when we come to the door after a walk- the danger point for these ministrations.  Bella is letting me pet her, just a little bit, behind the ears.  She will sniff my hand when I offer it, and look at me calmly when I have stopped petting her.  (I am careful not to look at her directly, and I always approach her from the side.) The whale eyes haven't appeared for weeks.  Her panting is less frequent.  She watches me all the time, and has made a point of turning her whole head from me to the dresser where the treats are in a not so subtle indication of what she wants.  She still won't eat a treat outside of this room.  Yummy, soft chicken pieces offered on the porch or in the foyer are ignored, but Bella is beginning to become Bella. 

I've discovered the work of Patricia B. McConnell.  I watched a TED talk she gave on The Not So Secret Life of Dogs at Google.   (The link to Patricia McConnell's Google talk is here.)  She inspires confidence with her approach to dogs which suggests compassion and the ability to empathize across species lines.  Her remarks on humans are humorous and insightful.  And, I finally found a blog that resembles mine, and is even titled like mine!  (The link to Kira's Puppy Mill Journey  is here.)  Both of theses authors share a gentle, reward driven approach to working with puppy mill survivors.  Finally, I'm reading a book by Brian Hare and his wife, Vanessa Woods called The Genius of Dogs.  None of these sources advocate the notion of an alpha dog.

As I reflect on working with my puppy mill survivor, I find myself noticing the differences and similarities between working with humans vs working with dogs.  I expect more of humans.  I want humans to actively participate in their own recovery.  In some ways, I even see humans as responsible for the success or failure of their therapy.  These thoughts don't arise with Bella.  Instead, I find myself wondering to what degree I should challenge her.  I know that Bella will always be a dog, whereas human beings transform.  I expect the humans I work with to leverage their crises and trials, with my help, into the steps of a ladder.  This ladder is the ladder of self-discovery; the birthright of the human being.  We are body/mind beings.  It is our job to grow.  Animals also grow.   They seem to experience emotions as we do, at least the mammals do.  But I never feel that animals have contributed to their own psychological difficulties.  They can be kind, or mean, or loving, or great hunters, but they are never responsible because they don't have the divisions of consciousness that we have.  Their choices are all about actions.  Our choices are about who and what we will be.

I am beginning to define what success with Bella would be.  It would be for us to have a rewarding relationship; a relationship in which we both thrive.  I picture hiking the Ithaca gorges, or cuddling with her on the couch.  I want her to enjoy her life, and to enjoy her life with me.  Can I wish for the same with the humans in my life?  Perhaps, but the relationship between dog and man easily crosses a vast divide.  The relationship between man and man is tethered by unreasonable demands, contradictory desires, and egos constricted by both inflation and cruel self-diminishment.  It is easier, for many people, to love an animal than a human, and these contradictory impulses are the reason.  Is it our obligation to try and love our fellow man despite these difficulties? 

​I imagine a practice.  Allow yourself to experience your love of your animal.  Let it swell and circulate in your being.  Once you've done this, and you feel peaceful and unresistant, picture a person who you love.  If your state alters, find out what would need to be the case in order for your love of your fellow human to be as unguarded as your love for your pet.  If boundaries to your love rise up in you, find out what would be necessary to dissolve them.  
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I am starting to see changes in Bella which make me feel that we are finally turning the corner.  Several times she has walked with me down the hallway from the room where we both sleep, to the foyer for our outing.  There have been a  few times when Bell has emerged from our room and come toward me.  She hears me rustling around in the kitchen, thinks it might be a good time for one of our mini walks, and doesn't turn back when I look at her or address her.  I am still scary mommy, but she seems to feel relatively confident interacting with me if I don't challenge her terms.

To facilitate our familiarity, I moved my computer into the bedroom.  This way I am often in the same room with her doing my work quietly, or sometimes watching a show.  Circe, my black cat, has taken to sitting on my cheerful yellow bedspread (a color I needed during the doldrums of our long, early spring) and so the three of us are often in this room.  Imja, my honey colored cat, remains annoyed that we won't join her in the outer spaces, sometimes yowling plaintively.  Although some have give the advice that another dog would be just the ticket to connect with me and draw Bella further out of her shell, I don't see how I could manage that within the evolving politics of the household.  

I am feeling better.  Since so much of our experience of life is constituted by our projections onto one another, it is hard to know whether my improved mood is influencing how I am seeing Bella, or even how she is feeling, but either way this scary mommy is feeling more confident in the slow progress of our bond.

Dog people can be very passionate about their dogs, and dogs in general.  As I have been working with Bella, I have also been reaching out to learn about other people's experiences, especially if they have experiences with dogs like mine.  I am following the guidance of Bella's trainer, Karolin, and my vet, Dr. Sarah, and through Dr. Sarah, an animal behaviorist who is advising on meds.  So although these individuals are Bella's team, I want to share some of the other suggestions I have received.  

There is a Bernese Mountain Dog group in North Carolina that references puppy mill survivors on their webpage.  I inquired to see if someone associated with the group had a dog like mine.  I'd love to read someone else's blog about another dog going through this process.  It might help me when I feel discouraged.  No specific person replied, but the group sent the following note which I have found very helpful: 

Bless you for taking on a puppy mill baby. This breed can be a challenge especially the ones who have spent their lives in a puppy mill. Our experience in this area tells us with enough patience and time, they do finally start to come around. They all seem to find themselves a safe spot in our foster homes. Once they do, that is their spot. When they are in their spot, no one is to bother them. We do a lot of hand feeding to build trust. Lots and lots of leash walking even if it is in the fosters yard. This too builds trust. Our fosters spend a lot of time just sitting on the floor near them. While sitting there they ignore the dog and over time the dog will move to them and begin to make contact. We celebrate like crazy all the baby steps forward. And then slowly over time, introduce them to new things. The breed is already very sensitive and aloof, so it does take lots of time and work to move them past some of that. The breed also thrives off of a routine, we tell all fosters try to establish a pretty firm routine for them. As they get to know the routine, they do start to come out of their shells a little each week. We use rescue remedy a lot on the puppy mill babies. Most never get past everything but in time usually years, they do get to be more "normal". When we adopt the puppy mill Berners, we look for quiet homes, usually no children, easy going laid back type of adult personalities, these dogs need calm and stability. 

Galen is a former Bernese Mountain Dog breeder, as well as a member of the group that rescued Bella.  She came with me when we met Bella; a quivering and fearful furry mass hovering against a couch.  Galen loves Cesar Milan, and has had years of experience with this breed.  She wants me to pile Bella in the car (carefully and with help) and bring her to the Bernese Mountain Dog fest!  Hoping that exposure to her kind would bring Bella out of her shell, Galen urges me to challenge Bella.  It's been too long she says, their lives are so short!   Karolin was appalled by this one, saying that it would be like bringing a vet with PTSD to a carnival.  I'm not going to try it at this time, but I don't know that the suggestion lacks merit.  

An online search yielded various techniques.  Some work on the principal of the alpha dog, and employ prong collars.  Another protocol has been used successfully with feral dogs.  It includes reading to them.  This is done for an hour or more daily over the course of weeks, or even months until the dog finally seeks out the human.  I've tried my own variation of this-sometimes reading and sometimes having telephone conversations in the room with Bella.  

I feel like I can divide the techniques into roughly two groups.  One is essentially the alpha dog method. With these techniques the human is top dog and presses the animal to change.  The second technique is more like taming a wild animal.   The human gradually persuades the dog that life is better with human companionship.  (I know, I know... )  Both notions stem from people who care about dogs.  Each proposal has its own logic and can point to successes. 

I feel that the flaw of the alpha dog philosophy is that it may re-traumatize the dog.  I feel that the flaw of the second is that it resembles letting a toddler decide when his nap and meal times are.  

At this time I feel best moving slowly and gently.  Bella is very damaged.  Although her improvements seem very small, they are improvements.  This blog is my tool for tracking them.  Over the course of the next several months I imagine I will learn more.