White Dog rested on the arm of my chair and Quinn was snuggled at my feet. She surveyed the scene and, stifling a yawn, said, "I think the boy is starting to feel like this is his home." "That is no small thanks to you," I told her. Without the guidance of White Dog Quinn would still be unsure about whether it was OK to get comfy on the couch...or to woof greetings to the mailman... or to ask for head rubs. She has showed him, through patient demonstration, how to politely take offered treats and to wait by the door at walk time.
Last night, White Dog and Steve played Flying Bee and Quinn watched intently. After several throws and fetches Steve sent Bee sailing into the hallway...and Quinn walked after it...he sniffed bee and even if he didn't return it (White Dog went and picked it up to show how it was done), he did get the general idea. Michael was thrilled when after dinner, he tried throwing the boomerang Comet had given him and once again Quinn tracked it down.
"White Dog," I said as I stroked her, "you are an excellent sister and are working hard to make Quinn feel safe and loved. And, with the exception of yesterday's lesson on how to roll in the yard after grooming, you have taught him many valuable lessons already!" "I am pretty good at this!" White Dog agreed as she snuggled into my shoulder for a post-breakfast nap.