My amber girl! She is a rescue from Husky haven in Houston. I love her so much.
The first 6 months i had her she would cower down on the floor if I got close to her, she had been abused. I took it slow and steady and she does hops when I get home from work nowadays, it is so rewarding!!!!
Same here. My house was in a secluded area of Georgia and on 10 acres to boot. The wind would often leave my back porch-door gaped open. Came home, one day and there she was curled up as a perfect fit in that circled bent-oak chair, perfect for her snoozing. As I approach to pet her, she panicked like in an air-raid. She thrust her terrorized trembling lil body into the farthrest corner of the porch. So I stopped. All week I left her bowls of water & food by the door, 12 feet away. Everyday I came home from work, everytime the far-corner trembling.
On weekends, I left the back door to the house wide open hoping she would approach me. My sister phoned to alert me she was coming over (giving me time to cower in the far corner of the porch). I heard her car door shut and went out the garage entrance to greet. It was my sister & my niece and there, raced out to greet them, was the lil pup, Boogidy, excitedly wagging her tail.
From the above event, I knew Boogidy's story. This is rural Georgia, remember? Here it is. This pup, whom I haven't gotten close to yet, lived with a single Mom & her little daughter. But Mom had a typical live-in mean boyfriend. The pup got love from Mom and lil girl but hatefullest abuse from redneck boyfriend. So Boogedy ran away ... to slip through my open porch door. Me being a male, also she couldn't trust me.
One weekend, door open, I was studying in the living room. Almost unnoticed Boogidy slipped in, jumped up on the far-far end of the couch about 8' away. I pretend not to notice. She slept. I went to my computer room to work.Down that quiet hallway I heard her come searching for me. Her urgent paw-gallopping sounded like boogidy-boogidy to me and thus she named herself.
When she let me hold her, I checked her out. Her little body bore 3 cigarette burn scars, recent enuf to represent the "last-straw". Away she ran probably scared as hell, not knowing the big world. She became the most loving dog, as only rescued dogs can be. However, I witnessed the saddest imprint of early abuse: she was too perfect, too accommadating. She would look up at me for a sign of permission on everything she could do (that's an ugly fear for man's best friend to be harnessed to). I tried to teach her to be "bad", tried to get her to take my sock off the floor to run away with it. She stare at my gestures, grabbed the sock but run only 2 feet, dropped it, & turned with the stare "is that okay? I don't feel safe doing this "bad stuff". So she trained me in compliance to her comfort zone.
That residue of early abuse endured. Whenever a stranger-male visited, along with a girl or two. I could see Boogidy's body make frantic micro-shivers. But now she had bravery, and she made it a point to meet the male first, challenge him into showing if he's gonna hurt her or not. Once assured by making him allow her to curl up in his lap for 5 minutes most, she then went to the females for her best loving. There's plenty of adventure stories onward with Boogidy, in spite of the handicaps she suffered.