An excellent article published in the current DogsDogsDogs newspaper by our own Joan Weston. Great insight for those that encounter owners with aggressive or excitable dogs. Empathy and not judgement are the order of the day. Every dog has different challenges and strengths, some are born in, some are environmental; all need support, love, empathy and education to reach their personal best. Diane, owner, Scholars in Collars Dog Training. Dear Every Other Dog Owner in the World; First, let me say hello. Since I’m never able to get close enough to you when I have my dog, I figured I’d take this opportunity to say hi to you now. I love the way you can glide down the avenue, with your Golden Retriever Bailey or Maggie (odds are better than 3:1 that either of those names will be right), happily by your side, heeling beautifully and handing out tulips to strangers, while carrying elderly pedestrians safely across the street. And all the while, you never spill a drop of your $9 Starbucks Macchiato Pomposity Grande. I’m sure we could be friends, if you’d give me the chance, and if my dog, Pariah wasn’t facing his most difficult decision of the day, that being which one of you to eat first. I’ve tried to smile at you, but Bailey/Maggie used her paw to lovingly guide you away from us, while glancing back at us, as if to say, ‘this isn’t your neighborhood, you’re not our kind here.” Pariah and I just continue on our way, and once his rover rage has subsided, in my shame, I go back to looking up remote outposts with excellent employment opportunities where we can someday move. Since I’ll clearly never be able to get close enough to you and your fur covered cross between Gandhi and Sister Theresa, I thought I could clarify a few things here. 1. I’m Trying. Really I am. I know that to you, seeing me with my fanny pack full of treats, or my multiple collars may look like I’m just a hoarder with separation anxiety, but I’m not. I have 153 treats, 33 collars and 4 leashes because I’m really trying to work with Pariah. Unlike you and Saint Fuzzytoes over there, I sometimes feel overwhelmed and lost, and even though it may not always seem that way, I am trying many things to change Pariah’s behavior. So how about a little more understanding and a little less of the assumption that I’m having the time of my life over here trying to restrain Pariah and his fang baring, leash lunging, growling and snapping hissy fit. 2. Pariah isn’t any happier about his behavior than you are. How’s that for a kick in the rubber parts? Do you know why dogs and humans act aggressively? Because they feel threatened. Yep. You don’t think so? When was the last time you punched a waiter for doing a great job? Or saw an old friend and joyfully ran up and slapped them silly? Wait, you haven’t done that? Well what if you were alone at night, and someone followed you into a parking garage. And they ran up behind you. And suddenly reached out at you. Is it possible that you’d flatten them with your Coach purse, or use your keys in your fist like you learned in self-defense class? Would it matter to you after the fact that the person was trying to return your cell phone that you dropped? Probably not. The good Samaritan would still have the word ‘Coach’ embossed on his forehead and more key scratches than an inconsiderate mall parker on December 24th. You were aggressive because you were scared. Just because you perceive the sidewalk during the day as safe, and your angel of a mutt never harmed so much as a grasshopper doesn’t mean that my dog doesn’t perceive them as a threat, in his warped little world. So maybe the next time you assume that Pariah’s barking frenzy is a cacophony of joy, try to remember that he’s scared, not joyful. 3. It’s really not all about you. When I ask you to call your dog away from mine, please don’t respond by saying, ‘Oh he’s friendly!’ I could not care less whether your dog is affectionate. What I want to say to you is “Oh, that’s great, my dog is about to eat your friendly dog, where would you like me to send what’s left of him?” When I ask you to call your dog away and respect my dog’s space, shocking though it may seem, this has nothing to do with your outstanding personality or Saint Fuzzytoes’ toothsome grin. And for the love of dog and all things good, please, if I am crossing a street to move away from you, DON’T FOLLOW ME across the road because you’re certain that everyone wants to meet you and your canine angel. Please take a moment to digest the shocking news that sometimes, others have issues and concerns that have nothing to do with you personally. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Mind blowing stuff, huh? So the next time you see me trying to avoid your dog, your first thought, once you can get your ego to sit down in the back row, should be, ‘I’d better move my dog away from them so that I don’t cause that dog and her owner more stress’. Or even more simplistically? Move away from us, simply because you can, and because in doing so, you help another living thing. How about that crazy idea of altruism as a justification for doing the right thing? 4. Ok, it really is kind of all about you. I get it. I know that you mean well. And that you’re Saint Assisi’s representative here on earth until he can come back and hug all the animals himself. In fact, the last time you visited the zoo they had to ask you to leave because the penguins broke loose from their Artificial Arctic exhibit to hug you with their flippers. The thing is, everyone else may love you, but Pariah doesn’t. Not with you shoving your hand in his face, staring beseechingly at him and cooing in some idiotic tongue that would make a devout snake handler ask to be bitten just to make it stop. In fact, truth be told, I don’t even like you much at that moment, and Pariah biting you would allow me to live my dream vicariously. If you really want to help, follow these simple rules of non-engagement: • If my dog is lunging at you, please don’t stand there and talk to or stare at him. Go away. Really. • If I say that it’s ok to try to approach, turn sideways away from my dog. If you want to give him a treat, drop it on the ground near you, don’t try to hand it to him. • If I tell you that you can hand him a treat, please don’t assume that you can now embrace him in a Trust Hug. He will eat you. Trust me on that. • Don’t let your dog lie down on the sidewalk and stare at my dog as we approach. The snake in the grass may be adorable to you, but to my dog, it’s a post-war flashback of the Viet cong. Staring is stalking. Please remember that. While the stalker may think it’s great fun, the victim rarely shares his enthusiasm. Just ask that nice police officer beside you. • If you see my dog staring at you, barking or lunging, calmly and quickly move your dog away. Bonus marks if you can go somewhere that my dog can’t see you, like behind a parked car, or Chris Christie. (You Canadians may not get that, but trust me, it’s funny) You may call yourself a dog lover, but the way to truly be so is to care about all dogs, even the flawed ones. And maybe their owners as well. What you may not know about me is that I’ve rearranged my work schedules, driven my dog 20 minutes away from home and gone out at hours that even the vampires look at me wearily and tell me to go back to bed. All so that I can have a nice walk with my dog just like you do every afternoon. And the things you take for granted with Saint Fuzzytoes, like her patio visits at the Yam and Hippo, or the children’s birthday parties at your home where she entertains orphans, I would give anything to be able to do that. But I can’t. So I try my best with what I have. The funny thing is that the bad behavior isn’t the hardest part of living with him. The worst part is that no one knows what a great dog he really is. I know you see him on the street, acting like Sharknado with fur. And you look at us with that judgmental expression, and pull your child away even though we’re nowhere near you. And it hurts. I feel ashamed, and I just want to scream out at you, ‘You don’t understand, you don’t know what a great dog he is most of the time!” I want to show you a video of him sleeping on the couch with us while we watch TV, or playing fetch with my four year old son. I want you to know how funny he is, and how much we love him, and he loves us. I know he has some challenges. Don’t you? Doesn’t Saint Fuzzytoes? So please, don’t just pass judgment on him when you see him at his worst. Not until you’ve seen him at his very best. We’re both trying. Really we are.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 14:24:58 +0000
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