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Show Lucy-3 We groped our way along, us both learning for the first time. Her great gift was a passion to please. I'd praise her outside, "good dog, going potty" and the day came when she'd "go potty" on command. "Come" "sit" and "lie down" were mine for the asking after just one lesson. After the torn-blinds incident, I thought I had to crate her when I went out, which she protested with pitiful cries, but then I experimented with going-away rituals, starting with very brief absences allowing her the run of the place. I'd put a dog biscuit in a small cardboard box, place it with a great flourish on a certain chair, hand her another treat, say, "I'll be back." She soon understood: the box was her thing to tear up, a token outlet for her separation anxiety, and my departures became a happy event for us both. Less than a month after I brought her home we took the three-day drive to what was then called Desert Horizons Ranch, (also known as Hollywood Ranch), on the outskirts of Kanab, to teach a creative writing workshop. I say "we" because Lucy proved to be a watchful travel companion, and she made herself an integral part of the small outdoor classes at the ranch, greeting each aspiring poet with happy cries, then curling politely at my feet. Housebreaking-not impossible, after all, but still tenuous-required that I leap up to let her out at the slightest whimper, no matter the />» hour. Our first night in the Rock House, she had to work at rousing me from my 1/ A exhausted sleep, but finally I tottered to the door to let her out. No sooner outside than she gave a piercing yelp and, let back in, leaped onto my bed, reeking of skunk. I was so groggy from the long drive I simply lay there thinking, "Oh, so that's how it smells. Interesting. Not so bad, not really. " I finally came to my senses long enough to give her a bath of sorts. Southwestern spotted skunks were everywhere around the ranch that |