Max is our first rescue dog. We were prepared for a much tougher integration to us and the boat. Tomorrow will be our one week anniversary, and it’s hard to remember life before Max.
He walks the decks and keeps an eye on shore life, never trying to jump off. He peacefully sun lounges in the cockpit on his own, coming inside every so often to check on us. He’s decided his bed is with the girls, or in Peyton’s clothes bin, depending on his mood. He sleeps all night without any potty issues until we take him out in the morning (we are so not used to a young dog’s strong bladder!). He respects (well mostly) Banyan’s space…but Banyan’s the grumpy one…not Max. He comes when called (although he still comes more easily to tone than his name). We motored through the marina yesterday (to pump out), and Max wasn’t even phased that his home got noisy and started moving about. He knows the commands for sit, off, and down (or learned them from us in the first hour). We think he may have belonged to an elderly or disabled person, because he has this sweet and quiet way of standing against your leg to get a pet and say hello. It’s almost like a hug, and it comes without any aggression or attitude.
Don’t get me wrong…he’s still traumatized (neglect or abuse…or both). I had to muzzle him at the vet so they could check his neutering incision. He cowers when strangers try to engage him, and he is still very, very submissive. But, every day the thawing of Max continues…and we get a few more minutes of silly and play. We even heard his first bark yesterday! The girls are in Max heaven, and Andy and I are grateful and continually surprised at how easily he has taken to the Beck boat life.
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