After three months in his forever home, Sam decided to see what the great tartan hill held in store. This is not due to lack of trying on our part – there has been all sorts of chicken based encouragement and literally hours spent trying to coax up a few steps, or lead up steps with a harness on. All of this just resulted in a very confused looking Sam who retreated back to his favourite bed and waited for the humans to be less crazy.
There is a certain amount of irony that the garden has steps up to the grass that he has managed perfectly from day 1 (with the exception of the time he tripped going up them and scrapped his leg in his haste to bark at a helicopter…). I am speculating that the fact he could sort of see the top and knew what was up there, meant he didn’t think of these in the same way as the carpeted steps to nowhere in the house that people sometimes vanished up, only to re appear at an indeterminate amount of time later.
I must admit a certain selfishness in wanting one of the woofers to be able to navigate the stairs. My home office is a small room at the upstairs back of the house, with a single bed rammed in the corner for emergencies that would be the perfect size for a greyhound and I would love the company all day. I was slowly starting to accept that the dogs were happy downstairs (where my husband lurks) and it did give me several excuses to leave my desk for extended periods to find a dog to cuddle with.
You cannot imagine my surprise then with the sound of a frantic scramble, jangling collar tags and then a fawn head peering around the door. The level of excitement that he had found me still makes me smile when I think about it – this is where the people hide! Oh and there is a Sam sized bed right within ear scratching range. Sam may have just found his happy space.
After a nap to get over the excitement and an exploration of the other rooms now available, we did hit the snag of Sam staring at the stairs in total confusion as to how he would get down them. The attempt to lead him down with a harness lead to outright panic, so my husband had to pick him up and carry him down. Not an easy feat as Sam is not a small boy at 33kg!
Over the course of a week, multiple trips upstairs and carry’s downstairs and he finally gave the downward trip a go on his own. It was slow and awkward but successful. To be fair, up the stairs is quicker but still awkward. Greyhounds are long and despite the fact you may think they have 4 legs, I’m convinced it’s more like 8 and you get a very spider style movement up and down the stairs. This cannot be hurried, or else you may fall down the last couple of steps and land in the water bowl a few feet away from the bottom of the stairs and everything gets an unexpected soaking at 0645.
Sam’s older half sister Bea moved in at the same time and is a confident girl who knows her own mind. You would think she would have mastered the stairs but has no interest in even trying. I was convinced early on it would be Sam that would the first to do it. This might sound a little vain but I thought he would be motivated to come and find me. Bea adores all people and is very happy curled up on a bed at my husbands feet in his downstairs office. Sam has been my boy since day 1 – and I thought he might just want to be with me.
I wasn’t wrong – he now seeks me out at every available opportunity and looks so thrilled to have found me every single time. He is becoming the star of all my conference calls – a quiet fawn face peering over my shoulder or snoozing right across the bed.
