Getting care in Taiwan.
The first morning I took Fleetwood for a walk she damn near dropped to the ground and army-crawled back to our apartment building. What triggered her? A bike rider. It occurred to me that after having spent her entire life likely caged up at a puppy mill, she probably never saw a bicycle in her life. And since I lived in a town that felt very futuristic — robots frequently deliver our groceries — I knew that the number of pedestrians on zany transportation devices was only going to continue to spook her.
It wasn't just bikes and robots. Cars scared her. Garbage trucks sent her into an immediate panic. But I helped her work through it, doing what she needed and rewarding her every time she pushed through the nervousness. I'd usually give her treats while the scary noises passed us and eventually she became a pro. Now she doesn't even blink on trash day.