The best Mom could do was touch Lady's side. There was nary a hug for her -- at least not from my mom.
Lady was the boxer puppy who came to live with us when I was 3 years old. She was an excellent pet -- gentle, patient, protective, and playful (or not, as the situation required).
I suspect my father wanted a dog and my mother was ambivalent, at best. But I like to think that if Mom had vetoed a dog, my father would have acquiesced.
Dad was the one who trained Lady in the fundamentals of being a well-behaved dog and a well-mannered family pet. Mom was the one who set the boundaries inside the house: she insisted that Lady sit on the rug when she came into the house until her feet were dry, lie on a rug and not on the carpet, stay out of the bedrooms, off the furniture, etc.
Mom tolerated Lady, perhaps even loved her, but she rarely touched Lady and, as far as I remember, never ever hugged or cuddled her.
On the other hand, I love giving and receiving hugs from my Airedale, Hannah. She's a rescue girl, saved from an abusive situation when she was two. Her world was ruled by fear of everything and her method of coping was to duck, run, and hide. After seven years with us she's still wary of strangers and timid in new environments but she's thriving in so many other ways.
Hannah has adored me from the first night in our home when I slept on the floor beside her. We share hugs aplenty.
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