No Hill for a Climber

On a muggy and sweaty April afternoon, the trusty FedEx truck delivers the pet steps, leaving a bulky and almost unmanageable package that takes up a third of the front porch.  I haul the awkward, triangular shaped container inside and then spend a half hour fending off cats and cutting through a dozen layers of packing tape and industrial strength cardboard.  The folks who make these are serious about their products and leave no room for potential shipping damage - a well placed explosive device couldn't have made an impact - but it's no match for my stubbornness and carving knife.  Waving off cats with one hand, I hack, rip, tear, and slash until the steps are finally liberated.  The dogs, sitting a safe distance away, watch intently but do not approach.

It takes another ten minutes to repair the living room which now looks like the aftermath of a limited nuclear strike, and then I carry/drag/manhandle the three feet of carpeted steps to the bedroom and strategically place them next to the bed.  The dogs trail after me - curious but very cautious - like me, they're change resistant to a fault and aren't at all sure about this new addition.  It takes nearly an hour and more than a dozen treats before they will even get close.  Then another hour of repetition and encouragement, another dozen treats.  Over and over and over, I put their little feet on the first step then nudge and maneuver and coax to keep them there.   The black dog wants nothing to do with the entire process but I think there's hope for the little dachshund - he badly wants to be on the pillows with the kitten - and finally I sit on the bed and call him gently.  He begins to climb tentatively, anxiously, delicately, changing his mind in midstep several times, working up his courage gradually and then with one deep breath and a look of absolute steely eyed determination, he BOLDLY GOES WHERE NO NO DOG HAS GONE BEFORE.  He has conquered his fear and one cautious step at a time, he ascends.  He reaches the top step looking supremely self satisfied (and to be truthful, more than a little surprised), then steps lightly onto the bed.  The crowd goes wild!

Over the next few days, I work with the black dog but get nowhere.  She keeps a respectful distance between herself and the unfamiliar steps and contents herself, if a little resentfully, with being on the floor.  Wisely, the little dachshund shows no interest in bragging about his accomplishment and after a few more days, he no longer needs coaxing, climbing confidently and sure footedly on his own.

Courage is fear holding on a minute longer ~ Patton