A Lesson in Grace, from Grace

During her first week in our house, our little rescue dog, Gracie, lived in our bedroom, leaving only for bathroom breaks. In part because she'd spent the first seven years of her abused life outside and she had no idea what "indoor" was or what to do with it. She was also malnourished and ill, and needed an enormous amount of sleep as she recuperated.

We also wanted to creat a comfort zone. A place she knew she would be safe. As terrified as she was, when she did finally venture forth, she crept back, her body shaking in terror, if the doorbell rang or if she heard a loud noise.

Today, she has plenty of spots she can go to rest, but when she's frightened or cold (she hates the cold and the rain) if our bedroom door is open, she'll run in there and hunker down by my side of the bed. Knowing her people belong in there at night, she does her best to herd us in there, often peeking her head out to stare at us imploringly. It's too cute.

It strikes me that, with love and support, this dog has left the past behind and moved on. Most likely because she had no inkling she could drag the past along with her. File that under lessons from our pets.

Gracie (left) snoozes on the hearth beside Charlie