Dropping a Spoon

No, "dropping a spoon" is not a euphemism. This past Friday afternoon, I literally dropped a literal spoon on the literal floor and what happened next was cause for celebration.

I was emptying the dishwasher in the kitchen, and Lily was lying a few feet away on the floor in the den enjoying the Kong that I had given her a few minutes before. As I picked up a handful of silverware to carry it over to the drawer on the other side of the kitchen and put it away, I accidentally dropped a metal soup spoon on the tile floor. You may be thinking, "What's the big deal? That probably didn't make that loud of a noise." If you are thinking that, it is because you have not lived with a fearful dog for the past year and a half. (Read more about Lily's fears here and here.) Six months ago, the sound of that spoon falling about five feet and hitting the tile floor would have caused Lily to abandon her Kong, run to her downstairs "safe spot" on the living room sofa, and refuse to move for anywhere from approximately ten to twenty minutes. A year ago that same sound would have caused Lily to abandon her Kong, run all the way upstairs to her ultimate "safe spot" of her bed in the master bedroom, and refuse to move for probably around an hour or two.

Instead, this past Friday when I dropped the spoon Lily glanced up (without even moving her head, just her eyes), saw that there was nothing going on that she needed to worry about, and returned her attention to her Kong. She didn't even flinch. I had to stop myself from doing a victory dance.

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