I had been warned that Danny would be a challenge when I decided to adopt him.  My first adoptee, Gracie, was welcomed into our home four months previous and I felt confident that I was ready for another, even a shy boy like Danny.

   It is our first day.  Danny comes home, tail tightly tucked between his legs as it would be for the next several days.  He is set free in the fenced yard and Gracie is let out to hopefully offer him some consolation.  With her tail rapidly wagging, she runs up to greet him.  Things are going well.  Time to check out the inside.

   Seated in the living room, I watch as he briefly studies the house.

   Cautious and unsure of where to go, he lies down on the hard wood floor of the dining room and continues to pant heavily.  This is the furthest possible point from where I am seated.  Danny needs time to rest and adjust at his own pace.  Five long minutes pass before I get up and venture towards him.  I want to scratch his velvet ears, rub his bald belly, and talk to him.  He grows uneasy as I approach and ultimately jumps to his feet and begins circling the living room table each time I grow closer.  Clever hound.

   Time for the grand tour, sort of. Having already been through the downstairs, we begin our first lesson in stair climbing.  This does not go well.  Gracie took an hour to learn how to negotiate up and down the steps with ease. Danny was going to take a little more finesse.  Corey, my boyfriend, scoops him up and carries him. Upon reaching the bedroom, it does not take him long to discover the kennel and soft plush bed inside. He will remain here for the next few hours as I settle in to watch television in the adjacent room. Every twenty minutes or so I get up to peek in on him to occasionally find that he has mustered the courage to venture out of the kennel to the poke his head around the corner of the bed which he appears to be using as a barricade.  Each time, I inadvertently startle him back inside the solace of his kennel.

  As bedtime approaches it is time to let the dogs out to potty.  As Danny can’t yet climb the steps, there seems little hope of him being able to manage the more arduous task of getting down them.  He gets another lift from Corey.  We get him outside, he goes and I realize I should have had him leashed as the reality of his situation suddenly appears to have set in.  He is rapidly pacing back and forth in the yard, facing us, barking in a defensive manner.  As I slowly approach he flees to the other end of the yard, staring at Corey who promptly ducts inside the house.  We are alone and I manage to get his collar as he stops barking and regains his composure.  Once back in the bedroom, I lay on the floor beside him and we fall asleep.

  After a couple more days Danny is able to climb the stairs and as the second week approaches he is able to descend them.  This is exciting for him and he shows off his new skill by tearing down the flight of stairs at lightening speed, occasionally bumping his head on the wall at the turn a few steps from the bottom.  I am proud.
   Into the second week he is feeling a bit more comfortable with these peculiar new living arrangements.  By this, I mean he is occasionally willing to be in the same room with me so long as I keep my distance.  On a good day, I can sneak a pet but only until he regains his wit and realizes I am touching him.  He begins acknowledging me as I come home from work in a way that makes me feel he doesn’t entirely loathe the fact I have returned.  Things are looking up.
One day as I walk toward him in the back yard, and he runs. While running as I approach is nothing new, there is something different about it this time.  I continue toward him, picking up my pace as he picks up his.  I am now chasing him through the yard. Why am I doing this?  I must be terrifying him I think as I begin to loose breath, but no, his tail is up.  I change direction, blocking him off at the deck, he darts back the other direction.  We seem to be playing!  This is a breakthrough.  
   Danny continues to progress and open up.  He is cautiously starting to like me. As I watch television one evening in the living room, Danny lays on the dog bed on the floor by the couch.  The sound of him scratching his ear abruptly gives way to a piecing shriek.  Startled, I look over to discover he has hooked his little toe into his collar suspending his paw in front if his chest.  I rush over to get it out for him, he is fine.  Emergency resolved.  While I know he was scared and likely felt some discomfort, I can’t help but to laugh at the site of this large hulking animal rendered mortified by a toe caught in a collar.  I am grinning as I sit back down on the couch when out of nowhere comes Danny.  Within seconds of my valiant rescue, he is on the couch curled up tight next to me, head in lap.  I am officially Danny’s mom.
   A few days after the toe incident, we have a compressed rawhide bone pinched onto cheek debacle which furthers our new bond.  We are on the couch together, Danny behind me, staring up with a seven inch bone hanging off the side of his face.  I can only figure he was chewing on one end which caused the other end to open, and then close when he released.  I manage to free him of this viciously attacking veterinarian-recommended treat and he is once again grateful for my services and I am once again amused by his awkwardness.  I begin to wonder if he should be left alone without adult supervision.
   Today Danny is well adjusted to his new life.  He is leery of strangers, but after a few minutes he allows himself to be won over.  He has certain quirky hang-ups like walking under shade trees, and the occasional random street sign, that he is uneasy about, but we get through them. I feel honored to be in his life through all his accomplishments. Dogs like Danny show courageousness and bravery in every obstacle they overcome. It is immensely rewarding to watch them and to be accepted by them.  If you are willing to be patient and take the time to let them get to know you and to let them become accustomed to their new world, I would suggest adopting a shy dog.  I am thankful that Danny is part of my life and I know he is appreciative that I gave him a chance.