Over the course of my pregnancy, Wes and I often wondered how Lucy would do with the baby. We finally got our answer on Monday when she came home from the kennel. She greeted me with great gusto, then sniffed me curiously, then smelled the baby shirt and blanket, then gave me and the baby the cold shoulder for most of the day. She woofed quietly the first few times she heard him cry, but then evidently got used to it. She curled up in her bed early that night, though I'm not sure if it's because she felt she was being ignored or she was just exhausted from spending three night's at the vet's office.
She's slowly warmed to him since then. She gives him some good sniffs now and then, likes to lick his hand when it available, and has given serious consideration to treating Ollie's head lesions with a good tongue bath. She really likes the rug in the baby's room and has recently started taking pieces of her dinner (she likes to spread her food out as she eats it) and her chewie in there, must to my dismay. She sometimes gets up at night when we do, and she seems content to just sit nearby when I rock Oliver. Her curiosity has definitely increased daily, and I think she's coming around on him (and has once again acknowledged me). We've tried to take a daily walk with the baby and Lucy to encourage sibling affection. Nothing wins over a dog like a trip to the park.
I definitely look forward to the day that Oliver becomes aware of Lucy's presence and, if the dog manages to live long enough, the day the two can chase each other in our hypothetical yard. For now, I'll take my cue from HP and her husband, who, each time they left the house when their kids were little, instructed the dogs, "Mind the baby."
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