On her own Terms

She had known from the beginning. I was still learning to believe her.

As soon as we had Makenzie’s confirmed arrival date, we went out to choose the collar she would wear at our favourite little shop across from our building. She would be a Pacific-North-Western girl, so we decided for a fitting pattern, imagining her wearing this for many years, no matter where we all would end up living.

The day she arrived she was in her favourite state: completely naked. We introduced her to the collar slowly, letting her sniff and get used to it, and then carefully putting it on her with a lot of play, treats and patience over the next few days. She was adamant from the beginning in not wanting to wear it. She wasn’t anxious or uncertain. She simply refused.

We tried a harness instead. The first one she accepted willingly: a soft puppy one, light against her small body, not asking too much of her. It worked until she outgrew it, and the one she had accepted wasn't made in a larger size. Like soft baby clothes that simply don't exist for toddlers: the thing that had fit her exactly wasn't built for who she was becoming.

Nine harnesses in total: with two of them she froze completely as soon as they touched her body in a total withdrawal, as if she had decided that the most reasonable response to an unreasonable situation was to stop participating entirely. She would not react, take no treats, no toys, no name reached her. She waited, with a patience that had nothing uncertain in it, until the harness came off. Then she was Makenzie again. With the other seven she was relentless: biting, chewing, working at the fabric with a focus that left no room for doubt. Her little teeth were already destructive, and each refusal was immediate and without ambiguity. Not every harness came off quick enough to be in returnable condition.

The one she finally accepted had the lest fabric of any of them. The Freedom harness. I still remember the way her body settled when I put it on without freezing, or teeth showing, just her.

For a few days it felt like we’d found it. The problem was she could bite through it in thirty seconds when the mood struck her and she felt obstructed. I had four of those harnesses on rotation, always repairing, always trying to keep at least two functional at any given time. A harness soaking, one drying, one waiting to be stitched. I didn't think much about what it said about me that I was willing to maintain this system indefinitely. It was simply what she needed, and so it was what I did.

As she grew stronger and more certain about direction, the fragile fabric began to feel like the wrong answer. I found one I thought might work, similar in build and fabric, but more structured and secure. Unpacking it at home it felt wrong. A slight flatness where there was usually ease. I wasn't certain enough to trust what I felt. I needed to see it somewhere she was completely herself.

The small park over the Seattle Barkery was our place — hers and mine. Shiba happy hour that afternoon, the same dogs, the same rhythm she moved inside of so naturally. I let her play for a while with the old harness on. She was exactly herself: light, integrating, reading each dog and adjusting, flowing in and out of the group the way she always did there.

Then I changed the harness.

She became more physical immediately. Body-checking dogs she had just played beside gently. Chasing without the usual exchange of back and forth, the invitation and swap, the reading of what each dog wanted. She pressed rather than played. The ease and the lightness were gone.

I watched for ten minutes. Deliberately, wanting to be certain enough about myself to trust this later. Then I changed the harness back.

She was instantly herself. Same dogs, same afternoon, same park. Playful and light and fully present, integrating and reading and adjusting, as if the interruption had never happened.

I had been right.

The fear was still there: whether I was doing enough, whether I was the right person for this at all.

She moved through the dogs, light and reading and adjusting. Exactly herself.

And I was starting to hear her.