Sheena(who was Rhona) has found her heaven on earth with Mum MaryAnne, Dad Matt and her besties, Molly, Roxi and Tess. Sheena came to Noahs Bark in July 2013 from a breeding establishment. To say Sheena was a very traumatized little girl is an understatement. In November of the same year Sheenas foster carers circumstances changed and so she went to stay with MaryAnne & Matt( yes - this lovely couple are now 2nd time around failed foster carers). We will let MaryAnne tell the rest of Sheenas story, an incredible journey that has seen so many changes and has taught us all so very much, so many special memories of landmarks that none of us would have dared to hope would eventuate - but have. Happy days ahead poppet :-) SHEENA’S ADOPTION STORY This is not a short story or a simple story. It is a story of hope and transformation, of learning to trust and letting go. Ultimately it is a story of acceptance. We had fostered 10 dogs for Noah’s Bark by the time “Rhona” came to us. During that time we got to know a variety of breeds all in different emotional and physical states. With some it took several days or a week to win their trust and allow us to pat them and nurture them. Others were prepared to trust almost immediately, depending on their personalities and life experience. A couple were very sad and scared (one wouldn’t get out of her bed for over a week, another wouldn’t allow us to get close enough to pat her for 9 days) and it took a lot of patience and warm nurturing to convince the timid ones to leave their chosen hiding spot and join us in the garden, in the lounge, in life. Although sometimes heartbreakingly sad, we relished the challenge of helping these little balls of fluffy love feel safe, find their confidence and zest for life, and at least get to the stage of being ready to go to their new forever home. “Rhona” was our first Maltese X. A “little white fluffy dog”. She ran from the room the minute we entered, never held eye contact and hung her head and looked away whenever we looked at her, even when we talked with soothing tones or were offering treats. (This was the first dog we’d ever known who wouldn’t be won over with delicious morsels!) A couple of months later, a young nephew came to live with us. One night he told us he felt Rhona didn’t like her name. We asked him to rename her and he chose Sheena. I kid you not, when I called out “Sheena”, she immediately looked in my direction. She responded to the new name and seemed to know it was hers. She had never responded to Rhona. And so the story continued, but now with Sheena. Rarely would Sheena spend time in the same room as us and if she did, it certainly wasn’t in a relaxed state. The smallest sound or movement - the rustle of a newspaper, putting a cup of tea down on a table - would send her bolting from the room as if her life depended on it. She came to us wearing a thunder jacket to help ease her anxiety. Nothing seemed to help. The first few times we took her to the vet, or to be groomed, we would have to corner her to be able to pick her up safely. Even with our softest voices and calm, slow movement, she would defecate with fear and quake to her core. After a dental procedure several months ago, the vet told us Sheena’s teeth were worn down so far and so evenly that it looked like in the past she’d spent a lot of time gnawing on a cage, or perhaps on rocks. Watching her sleeping peacefully on the couch that night curled up with the others, we became more determined to somehow find a way for her to experience the feeling of being secure and respected, and to have a sense of belonging. We tried everything. We researched and sought advice and tried not to be too anxious about how long it was taking. What had happened to this wee creature for her to be so deeply traumatised and distrusting of human beings? She was perfectly fine with our other three dogs. The four of them formed a pack that seemed from the outside the happiest pack in the world…until a human appeared and then Sheena would take her distance. Eventually we had to face the fact this was going to take time, perhaps a very long time. We weren’t able to hurry this process or run it according to any kind of timetable. This was not going to have a swift, happy ending with her being adopted and living in joy on someone’s lap. And it has taken time, which was obvious in hindsight. But we’d had the glowing sheen of optimism blinding us from our previous 10 experiences, so we kept wondering if there was more we should be doing and if so, what? Were we not right for her? Would a smaller house with one human be a better environment for her rehabilitation? Then little by little, Sheena started to let go. She began to look me in the eye when I talked with her for a few moments before looking away. One morning when she woke up before the terror kicked in, she wagged her tail when she saw me and gave an excited squawky bark. The other day, I saw her “play” for the first time with one of our other dogs. It was an impulse that came from deep within her when the others returned from their walk. Sheena was very happy they were home and they were thrilled to see her too. Gradually she started to get the confidence to stay in closer proximity to us, and in fact, now she likes to stay close to wherever we are. A couple of months ago she started to let us pick her up without having to corner her first, and she no longer shakes when she’s in our arms. Now, she will allow us to pat her for an hour at a time on the couch between us. She still doesn’t seek out contact, but does now seem to enjoy and need communicating with us and being in the same room often looking deep into our eyes. At a vet check up last week, her heart rate stayed normal, she didn’t shake, and when he put her on the floor she moved over to us and sat near our feet. The vet said it’s an indication that she trusts us and sees herself as belonging with us. (Our other dogs would have leapt into our arms! It’s all relative, I guess). We fostered her for just over a year. And we’ve recently officially adopted her. As much as she’s gained from being with us, we have also learnt a lot from her. We stay present with her now and don’t expect her to behave a certain way or be something she’s not ready to be. We’re thankful and ecstatic with every little step she takes, a brief sniff of our foot, a bark of joy at dinnertime, a relaxed sweet look on her face when sleeping peacefully - regardless of the noises that are going on around her. She takes her role as watchdog very seriously and alerts us without fail when someone approaches the front door. She is a gift and we love that she’s now a part of our clan. I have come to understand now that Sheena will continue to make the journey in her own way in her own time. We’re not writing her story. She is.
Posted on: Tue, 13 Jan 2015 08:00:25 +0000
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