Quiet Mouse

For the last few days I have taken Cara into work. No one is aware she’s even present. She sleeps in her baggie by my feet and doesn’t make a sound. I flip the lid down when I leave my desk. Not a peep.

I know neither of my co-workers are allergic, as C has a German Shepherd and an aging Spaniel and F, while currently dogless, grew up with them and is looking at adding a new family member soon. The passengers on the train though, I cannot say if they are or not. No one around me sneezed this morning, so I’m going to hazard a guess that we were in the clear for today.

Some guy did get on the train wearing a surgical mask though. Mate, if you’re sick enough to think it might be a bad idea to spread your germs, stay at home! Work won’t want you there coughing in your cubicle, your co workers won’t appreciate you trying to be a hero and soldiering on. I’m pretty sure everyone in the train carriage was thinking the same as me. ‘Go home, you idiot!’

Anyway, I digress.

This is Cara’s second trip to the office. She also accompanied me on Tuesday when I had the car serviced. She is more relaxed today.

At lunch time we popped out for a walk to the little park near the Harbour Bridge. While still quite shy, I didn’t have to take her out of the bag, she walked out on her own accord. She followed me for a couple of loops then had a sit down. A couple more loops, at this point I should tell you this park is more a patch of grass no bigger than your average UK back garden, then she went off and sniffed the trees herself. This is a big step forward in her development. Of course, she realised I was more than two feet away and ran after me, but she did venture towards them on her own again.

I do need to get her used to having a wee when we’re out. At the moment she hangs on until we get home. This is unacceptable because it means we can’t go away over night just yet and I’m not sure it’s entirely good for her. At the moment it seems she’s too afraid to wee (or poo) anywhere other than her backyard. Very human behaviour. How do I break her of this?

On that, she won’t eat either when we’re out. Not even the tiny liver treats that she loves so much. She’ll only drink if I pour water into my cupped hand.

I know this is all part of the solicitation that she needs to go through in order to get her living life to the full, so I shall persist.

She’ll continue to have train trips, beach visits (she had her first experience of the surf on Tuesday), trips to the movies (I’m not sure understood the nuances of ‘Rango’) and car trips wherever I go until she pees and poos with abandon and chases a ball like a dog ought too.