The fury of Ike

On Monday, we thought that IKE was going to send my sister, her daughter and the C-A-T to our door, refugees from South Beach in Miami.

This afternoon, we picked up David's mother, who IKE has sent to us as a refugee from Houston. How ironic, to flee a hurricane by flying into another hurricane-infested state.

And now we have a dog issue. David had to run to pickup the teen-human from cross country practice.

He left his mother alone at the condo with Booker.

Booker was sleeping soundly, on his cushion #2 in the teen-human's bedroom, which is where Mom is staying. She walked quietly into the bedroom -- alone in the house with Booker -- to get something out of her bag.

And Booker started out of his sleep, barked, growled and lunged at her. She was afraid he would bite.

He has completely gotten over his aggression toward my daughter. She is asserting herself and we all are careful to not startle him out of sleep, and to "boss him around" regularly. We have never had a single incident of aggression toward guests. Booker is friendly, playful, hospitable when teenagers invade the house. He is fine with my sister and her daughter. He is polite but aloof with cocktailing friends.

This is troubling. We must not leave her alone with him for at least a few days of acclimatization. She needs to be liberal with the treat jar. And assertive with the commands.

Thank goodness he didn't bite.

Bringing in the Pro

Well. Booker bit Samantha. The quiet, gentle teenager of the house. It's not a bad bite, actually, not much more than a scratch on one finger.

But it was frightening. And Samantha, in her determined, non-flexible way, has closed her door, literally. She has had enough. Booker is high maintenance.

So tomorrow, we have an appointment with a trainer, Mark Coe of Sit means Sit. I need a different perspective. I need someone to tell me "yes, stick with it," or "you will never be able to trust this dog."

Our family has 7 months invested in loving Booker. He is a great great dog in so many ways. He doesn't chew or destroy or mess, he is crate-trained, he is housebroken. He doesn't bark inside. He walks like a dream on the leash. But I don't want to feel like I have to rationalize and "forgive" his huge failing as a housepet. He has this "cujo" demon that is not acceptable to wage upon anyone in the house. It feels dangerous at times and while I feel confident that I can deal with it, I do not live alone.

I am thinking good thoughts for the rescue -- the TOTAL rescue -- of Booker. We will see what tomorrow brings.

Meanwhile, the small human is barricaded in her room.