cuddlebug
I am on a mission to get Joon the brown dog to be more affectionate. She started off her puppyhood staring into my eyes with staring contests that I repeatedly lost, but then she got too interested in her big brother and now she’s just obsessed with food. A month ago I decided that I could either feel that I don’t have as strong of a connection to Joon or else I could forge one. The rules have relaxed a little — if she’s allowed on the bed or on a chair beside me — in favor of cuddle time.
It’s really working. Showing love is a learned action. She gets more excited now by humans, by me, and she comes closer just to be touched instead of to see quickly if I have food. She puts her paws out to touch me when she wants me to pet her now. I am over the top: where’s my cuddlemonkey where’s my little cuddlebug! I coo, embarrassing everyone.
But love is learned both ways. And I feel so much more love for her lately because I am invested in her emotions and their connection to mine. With Moby it is easy: he runs over he dives into my laps, touches my face with his paw, gently licks the outside of my ear, rubs his face side to side along my leg. With Joon we have to work harder, but it is there, she is in there.
And because of this, I started wanting to care for her more. I took her to a holistic veterinarian because I could no longer take her flapping her ears or licking her paws. Before, I could tolerate it; it seemed minor. But the more I care for her, the more it hurts my own ears, my hands. The veterinarian gave her a western and chinese analysis, concluded that she has too much heat and wind, and administered chinese herbs. She peed inexplicably twice in the house after a day on the herbs, and then she hasn’t itched or flapped or licked since. She seems proud of herself. Love is sort of everything.
