Myrtle doesn’t like treats. Or her bed. Or us.

It immediately became clear that Myrtle was in a whole new world, which she didn’t trust or enjoy.

Initially, when we let her inside, she sniffed around and walked through the rooms. But it was more like a zombie walking around than an excited dog exploring a fun, new place. She was still in “survival mode,” and didn’t want to come anywhere near us.

We later found out, from different experts we’ve consulted, that Myrtle was overwhelmed with options.

It makes sense for a puppy mill dog, who’d only known caged life. We should have restricted her options from the start, and gradually introduced more living space, etc. She had no sense of security, and was in a 24/7 panic.

No interest in chicken!

She had no interest in any of the three beds we had for her.

She had no interest in any of the treats we bought for her.

And she definitely had no interest in us petting her or giving any attention at all.

Still, we expected things to turn around quickly. Surely she’d realize what a lucky pup she was!

We wanted to get her groomed ASAP. She was dirty and matted. Her hair was so long, it covered her eyes. I was desperate to get it done, but also didn’t want to traumatize her any further at that point. In retrospect, we should have done it immediately.

Myrtle *did like the cage we setup in a spare room. She spent most of her time in there (sadly) but didn’t even like the soft rug I put in the cage. She never really had accidents in the house, and would run outside when I’d open the door. The problem was always getting her back inside again. Little did I know, that’s something we’d be dealing with for many months to come.

You can see the fear or panic or anxiety in her eyes, as she tries to gather courage to get closer.

If you are interested in my travel adventures, check out my travel blog Jared’s Detours.