Well, I did it. I committed to a Therapy Dog evaluation on May 31, which gives Ruff and his slacker handler 75 days to do what needs to be done to present as a confident, competent team, capable of providing canine cheer and comfort.

Ruffian is still reluctant to leave the safe space of his crate when we’re parked in an unfamiliar parking lot so we’ve launched Operation Dare to Depart, a commitment to driving every day to a new place, waiting for him to leave the confines of his kennel so we can build his confidence while exploring new environments.

Our first foray was to the school where he will one day serve as Rowdy’s Study Hall Monitor understudy. Only 3-4 taps on the top of the crate convinced him he could safely exit the Explorer and head toward the building.

Ruffian is the first dog I’ve had whose energy drops with nerves rather than ramping up. He walked with me across the parking lot in a cautious jog, pausing to check out the scenery, continuing with cheerful prodding.

He willingly walked through the security vestibule, met a couple staff members, and submitted to the swarm of students who surrounded him in the hallway, though it was more frozen fright and less tempered tolerance and, as evidenced by the quaking feathers on his hind legs. Still, he accepted the love and offered a couple tiny pooch smooches in exchange for the many murmurs of admiration.

Then he Goldilocks-ed his way around our office, sniffed Rowdy’s relaxation spots on the carpet, drank from his water bowl and eventually laid on the dog bed he deemed Just Right.

We went to the Science teacher’s classroom and after a quick tour of the attractive aromas of plants, reptiles, amphibians and aquariums, he settled down for his first staff meeting.

Ruff refuses food rewards when he’s anxious, but during the meeting he took the crunchy treat offered in exchange for a down stay and even popped up a couple times for an intermittent reimbursement – a positive sign of getting comfortable in his surroundings.

Since then, we’ve spent two sessions in the parking lot of a local farm store, with the overly optimistic goal of getting out of the truck and meandering through the aisles of garden supplies, dog treats and farm tools.

Before we can get into the store, we have to get out of the truck though, so we’re still working on that.

Ruffian has yet to willingly jump out during our practice runs, even with Rowdy as his emotional support animal. During our inaugural trip he followed Rowdy out but instantly bounced right back off the pavement and into Rowdy’s car crate.

With a ridiculous amount of encouragement after a ridiculous amount of standing under an open tailgate in a northerly wind, we worked our way to a few small circles in the parking lot.

Next up, a city park with a playground and kids and cars and dogs and porta-potties. Ruff came to the edge of the back door of the truck quickly but was spooked by a teenage boy shouting the F word on his cellphone. Once convinced the profanity parade had passed, Ruff left the truck with only a bit of reluctance and only a bit of jostling of the crate.

He acknowledged the group of teenage boys playing video games (sans swearing) at the picnic table, allowed the petting of strangers, including two small spontaneous hugs from a little girl, and accepted the noises of kids on slides, spinners, swings, jungle gyms and merry-go-rounds.

My mom met us to walk the trail around the park, which provided practice in slow, mindful movement in the face of dogs barking behind fences, surveying stealthily from shrubs, and one group of three that snuck up on us from somebody’s backyard. After a few sniffs, they moved on, more interested in staying ahead of their owner than sticking around with Ruffian.

We were passed by boys on bikes, and we passed a flock of poultry. The Boss Hen made a beeline to the edge of the chicken run as we approached, a formidable, feathered foe that I suspect, had she been loose, would present a bigger challenge than even the monster mastiff, but we advanced without incident.

So, Team Ruffian is in spring training mode – practice, practice, practice. Nothing like the possibility of public humiliation to put the pressure on performance and we have 75 days to minimize the possibility of major meltdown.

And to maximize the joy of jumping out of the truck.

Road Signs for Ruffian – Therapy Dog Test Schedule
We’ll practice and practice
It’ll be a grand day
If we pass our big test
On the last day of May.