We have two akitas, River and Ocean. We got Ocean to help our overly-anxious bullmastiff, Lobo. When Lobo passed away, my lovely hubby decided Ocean was lonely and needed a buddy (side note: He’s a therapist. He can’t help thinking those things) and we got River. Another akita.
River grew up in a kennel without much interaction with humans because he was originally intended to be a breeding dog. We’ve been trying to fix that by socializing him, hugging and kissing him and basically spoiling him rotten.
We’ve been making steady progress. He sleeps on his cushion, has the run of the house and even knows how to take treats without snapping at your fingers like a hungry piranha.
Then, in a leap of faith, we decided to leave them alone in the house for a couple of hours and see how he’d do on his own.
We returned to this.
The culprit in question was clearly River, since he was still in the middle of his hors-d’oeuvre when walked in.
My hubby might be a therapist but so was Hannibal Lecter. I ushered the dogs quickly outside and tried to think of the bright side of things.
“Look at it this way, we get to buy a new couch…” I tried.
He wasn’t convinced. Apparently, couches are really important to therapists.