Almost one year

September 19th last year, we brought home an over weight, very drugged little piebald dachshund and gave her a home.
It is almost one year later.
She remains so damaged from her previous life that our touch usually makes her recoil or tremble. If we try to pick her up, to take her to a vet appointment or to hold her to check her for ticks or just make sure she is healthy, she runs. When we catch her she pees or evacuated her little bowels in abject fear.
Her life is seen from behind a curtain in the bedroom closet were she hides if we are in the house.
But we know she has some joys.
We set up a video camera and recorded what happens when we have left the house. Within a few minutes, she leaves her closet and explores the house. She pesters the Puppette dog, lying down with her. This kinda annoys the retriever, but it is good. By 25 minutes past, she has jumped up on the bed and settles in to sleep. But she does not fully relax. She looks around every few minutes, might lower her head, but looks around again and again. Finally settling at 42 minutes but her breathing never becomes slow and even, like a sleep, but remains rapid, staccato at her ribs as she scents the air and expects threat where none lurk.
But then she is outside with Puppette. Her tail rides much higher now, not like a happy care free wiener, but a less nervous one. Never more than a few adorable trotting steps from Puppette. Hanging so close to the blonde back end that she gets peed on and pooped on from time to time and we can't get close enough to Pixie to clean her up.
She bowled into Bugsy one day when he tried to squeeze her out as they headed out the back door to the yard. a solid little chested bull knocked Bug aside with no malice, but decisively.
At her one year vet check, we will be exploring an anti-anxiety med for her. She exists but we wont more for her. Her existence is infinitely better than the hell she came from, but we wont her to be as happy as Puppette and The Bug.
Time passes.