The Thundershirt arrived yesterday; I set it aside.
Then today, a beautiful day, I hung a clothesline full of laundry, and the sky immediately turned to grey. And then darker grey. A storm was approaching!
Very few instructions accompanied the Thundershirt, but there was the intriguing suggestion: "Before putting Thundershirt on your dog for the first time, offer a small food treat...using the folded Thundershirt as a 'plate.'" So after Riley inhaled a few snacks from the Thundershirt, he found himself sealed into his 'plate.' There was a LOT of Velcro involved.
Then today, a beautiful day, I hung a clothesline full of laundry, and the sky immediately turned to grey. And then darker grey. A storm was approaching!
Very few instructions accompanied the Thundershirt, but there was the intriguing suggestion: "Before putting Thundershirt on your dog for the first time, offer a small food treat...using the folded Thundershirt as a 'plate.'" So after Riley inhaled a few snacks from the Thundershirt, he found himself sealed into his 'plate.' There was a LOT of Velcro involved.
He watched for the storm, which seemed imminent. He was completely silent, which is NEVER the case when he's staring out the front door. (People walking by probably want to come into the house and murder and rob us, for goodness sake! He's just keeping us safe, and alerting us to danger!)
In fact, he didn't make a peep the whole time he was wearing the Thundershirt. It might have been the "security" that the Thundershirt is supposed to provide, or it might have been bafflement, or it might have been embarrassment.
I'm thinking embarrassment, because he would not, would not, look me in the eye while wearing it.
Riley, sans Thundershirt, in a painting from last summer at the farm.
HOWEVER, the verdict is still out on the Thundershirt, because soon after dressing him in it, and right after I took all of the clothes off the line, the dark clouds blew away and it was sunny again.
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