Last week I began a training course at the local Humane Society on how to train dogs. Each of the participants has been assigned a dog to work with so we can show it how to be more behaved and irresistible when someone comes to find a dog to adopt. I was hoping to walk away from the first session having earned the title of Dynamic Duo with my dog Sweetie. I walked away with a silent agreement between us that as long as I bribe her with lots of treats she will look at me every so often and focus in between the times that she is sniffing the ground. That is of course unless someone else stands close to her. Then no amount of treats will keep her from looking longingly at the other person as if she regrets being stuck with me. I've always known that dogs can help with one's self esteem, but this is the first dog that I've encountered that helps by using reverse psychology. She makes me feel a little self conscious so I affirm to myself that I am a person who is fun to be around despite what Sweetie thinks. She's helped me greatly in my self affirmation skills.
Almost right off the bat two dogs got into a tussle. Sweetie sat right next to me and we watched it get broken up. I was rather grateful that my dog was relaxed during that spectacle and was happy that I wasn't the embarrassed handler trying to pull my dog off another. A few minutes later I was pulling my dog with all my strength yelling, "Hey! Hey! Knock it off! Hey!" as she and another got into a wrestling match. My attempt to break them up was unsuccessful largely because when I tried to pry my foot between them I got a good look at their teeth. It wasn't even an intense fight, just a show of strength and dominance but it still shook me up. The instructor was able to pull them off each other. I expected her to accusingly ask me what happened; she didn't. But she did use the experience to shout out to everyone to keep our dogs at a distance from each other. I could feel my ears burning with embarrassment as I added, "I am not a dork." to my arsenal of self-affirmation phrases.
Reflecting back, the situation occurred because I lost a sense of my surroundings as I was digging into my pocket to get some treats ready. The dog next to us, Hank, was several feet away from us, but he closed the gap and came at me fast to get some of those great tasting treats and Sweetie wasn't going to let that happen. If I had been paying attention I could have stopped it before it began but focus has always been a bit of a challenge with me. However, maybe the other trainers who are going to be standing around me should equip their pockets with many Reeses' to offer me. I'm willing to be a test subject on positive reinforcement in humans as long as I get my fill of the chocolate/peanut butter delights. Give me a Reeses' Big Cup and I might even let you scratch my belly.
Wait. What was I saying about focusing?
As I was trying to think of a way to break up Sweetie and Hank I had a flashback of a childhood memory. The family at the end of our road had a Doberman. Our little dog, Sarge and their Dobie got along just fine. But one day for some unknown reason they started fighting. I couldn't have been older than 6 or 7 and was oblivious to the danger. In my infinite wisdom I got right between them and yelled, "Stop!" Dobie slammed into me knocking me onto my butt and one of them bit me hard on my belly. Again, in my infinite wisdom I screamed. As the banshee wail came out of my mouth I remembered my dad telling me again and again to never scream a high pitch squeal around a dog so it abruptly stopped and turned into a deep, guttural almost demon sounding, "I said stop it you dumb butts!" (That was the only curse word I knew back then.) I still remember the look Dobie gave me as she backed away tilting her head to the side in curiosity. I think she expected my head to start spinning at that point. Sarge jumped over me and chased her the rest of the way to her home.
When Sarge returned to me so did the little girl who belonged to Dobie. I told her what happened and showed her the broken skin on my belly and she begged me not to tell anyone. At that time Dobermans were today's Pitties. Everyone thought they were vicious and uncontrollable. I knew better. I had never even seen Dobie growl until that day and I wasn't even sure if she was the one who bit me. I agreed to keep silent.
By the end of the day the little scratch of a bite mark was already crusting over. But to me it looked like a horrid gash that one would receive in battle. I didn't want to get Dobie into trouble, but I had seen the episode on "Little House" when Laura got bitten by a rabid dog. Suddenly I was thirsty oh so very thirsty, but wait-I was too scared of the water to take a drink. What did I feel on my chin? Was it? No, it couldn't be! But it was, it had to be. I knew I had foam dripping from the corners of my mouth and even saw it fly out into the air as I shouted, "Daddy! Help me!"
Once it had been explained to me in no uncertain terms that I did not have rabies, I had to explain why I had just gone into a deranged frenzy about foaming at the mouth and sudden unquenchable thirst. I had to show him the bite. Expecting him to immediately tear down the road to defend his baby daughter I got ready to spring onto one of his legs to hold him back. He looked at me calmly and asked, "What did you do to get bit?"
I was ready to hang Dobie out to dry. I had gotten bit, how dare he assume it was my fault. She would have killed me if Sarge hadn't of sprung into action. I could have rabies and I was quite sure that Pa on "Little House" wouldn't react that way. I was even able to work in some tears to stress my point.
Thankfully, my dad was level headed and understood dogs. Instead of charging down the road to demand their dog be quarantined he explained to me that dogs are dogs and fight. And when they do fight, they are going to act like a completely different animal so telling them to stop and jumping in between them wasn't good. With wide eyes it sunk in that if they had been really fighting instead of just having a tussle, I could have been seriously injured by both of them. I was told to always run away from a dog fight and find an adult to help.
That lesson has stuck with me all these years. Which was a good thing until I found myself at a dog training course yelling, "Hey!" and being afraid to intervene in a dog fight. I was looking around for an adult to ask for help and it didn't dawn on me until too late that I was an adult. Thankfully, I wasn't bitten because that would be embarrassing for them to have to hold me down and convince me all over again that my mouth wasn't foaming.
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And just to add to my lessons in life that I learned from dogs: I also learned, you know, about the birds and bees from them. It wasn't my parents who had to explain that one to me. It happened on the playground at my elementary school when two stray dogs came up and started...ummmm..displaying their affection in front of a large group of us. All that I needed to know about the facts of life was learned as a large group of us second graders stood observing two dogs and listening to the explanations of the older, wiser fourth graders.
Please, parents-heed my advice and explain to your kids how to act around dogs. Most of the time if a kid gets bitten it is his own fault. And for the love of humanity have the "talk" with your children before they have to learn it from 4th graders complete with a live visual provided by two stray dogs.
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