The Elevator and a Sweet Transvestite

After several peaceful days of country living at Seven Oaks Ranch, our trip took a turn for the polar opposite. We drove down to visit my sister who lives in a high-rise apartment, smackdab in the middle of Los Angeles. Yes, this is my sister who is not fond of animals--but she was very receptive to us bringing Cabana. After Cabana's initial desire to greet and sniff, she quickly learned to respect my sister's boundaries. My sister was fine with Cabana being in the same room, as long as there was no physical contact between them.

Here we are on an early morning potty break in the central courtyard, encircled by about six of these tall apartment buildings. My sister lives on the top floor.

The first few times we went up and down in the elevator, Cabana was completely fine. But after the first day, she suddenly decided that she DID NOT LIKE THE ELEVATOR!

On the first morning, I was able to coax Cabana into the elevator with treats. We were down in the foyer after the potty break when Cabana REFUSED to get back in the elevator, hunkering down and digging in her heels. Several times, I had to let the elevator go, since I knew other people were probably waiting for it. I didn't want to just brute force her in, because I knew we had several days and MANY potty breaks ahead of us. I didn't want to traumatize her and felt that if she was able to come in on her own, it would be much better.

If my sister lived on the 4th or even the 7th floor, I might have given up and just taken the stairs--but I didn't really fancy the idea of going up and down 12 flights of stairs every time Cabana needed to do her business.

While attempting to get Cabana more comfortable about even standing NEAR the elevator, a man stepped out of the elevator, carrying a small Pomeranian dog. I explained to the man that Cabana was afraid of the elevator and would he mind getting back into it with his dog, so that Cabana would be more comfortable about being in there.

Not only did this friendly man help me coax Cabana into the elevator (even with the Pomeranian, it still wasn't easy!), he and his dog rode all the way up to the 12th floor with us to make sure Cabana was okay. This was at 6:00 in the morning, not a time of day when most people are feeling their friendliest!

This incident reminds me of the old saying, "Don't judge a book by its cover", because this kind and helpful man with the Pomeranian happened to be wearing a sheer pink blouse, a bra, pink lipstick, and large gold earrings. His medium length blonde hair was curled under and coiffed in a Cameron Diaz-like style. In my state of desperation, I hadn't cared what he looked like! But he had a wonderful British accent, and he spoke and comported himself in the most polite and "normal" manner. I don't think many people would have gone as out of their way as he did.

The next day, I saw the man again, this time wearing a beige floral outfit, and he inquired about how Cabana was doing. I was pleased to report that Cabana had improved tremendously. Thank you, Mister!?