It seemed that almost every household on the small street where I grew up owned dogs. And these were not kind, friendly, man's-best-friend Lassie types. These were nervous, tense, angry, snarling, yapping mutts, who scared the bejesus out of me. I'm pretty sure that I was bitten at least once by one of them, although I may be confusing that with the time where one of the neighbor's kids bit me. Such was my imagination, though, that at one point, I had convinced myself that I had been bitten by every single dog on the street.
As stated at the outset, this fear remained an inextricable part of me throughout my adolescence and well into my adulthood. If I was walking on the sidewalk and someone walking a dog were to approach me, I would cross over to the other side of the street. When I visited a dog-owning friend, I would not set foot in the front door until I was assured that the dog had been locked away. As I said, I had a great fear of dogs.
Finally, in my late thirties, I made a conscious decision. I do not want to live like this anymore. I did not want this fear to be a part of my life any longer, to control and rule over me. I wanted to be free of this negative emotion. So when I visited a friend who owned a golden retriever, I made a point of insisting that he not keep his dog out of sight.
That first occasion, of the dog -- and it was not a small one -- greeting me at the door and giving me a full body hug, was as unnerving a moment as I've ever had. But, as they say, whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. So with each subsequent visit to my friend's house, my fear gradually subsided.
And when I learned that my friend was going to be out of town for an entire month, and required someone to live in his apartment, in order to take care of the dog, I realize that this was my moment of truth. I accepted!
For the next month, I lived in my friend's apartment, and fed the dog daily, filled its water dish, walked it once or twice daily, combed it once a week, and periodically cleaned out the back yard of the little presents it would deposit.
Now after a couple of weeks of walking the dog, I began to be aware that it was perennially tugging at the leash, as if it wanted to go faster than the pace at which I was walking. Now I'm a big believer in not restricting others if there's no reason for it, so I thought to myself: If the dog wishes to walk faster, who am I to stand, so to speak, in his way? So I quickened my walking pace. And indeed, the dog quickened his as well.
But I soon noticed that even with this accelerated walking speed, the dog continued to exert a forward pull on the leash as it walked. Conclusion: it wished to go even more quickly. So dog and man hastened their pace even further. After a few more such adjustments, I found myself walking as fast as I could. And still, that forward tug persisted. So I shrugged my mental shoulders and shifted gears, going into a slow jog.
At this point, I didn't know any longer what to expect. After all, throughout my entire life, whenever I had seen a person out walking their dog, walking the dog was precisely what I would see. Walking the dog. Not jogging the dog. But jog the dog I did. (Say that ten times quickly.)
And by now, dear reader, you can guess the rest: of course, the dog's neck muscles still yanked on that leash, indicating that I was still holding him back. And of course, at this point, I finally realized what the dog had been longing to do all along: run! run! run! So two-legs broke out into a full sprint, and of course, four-legs did likewise.
And thanks to my uncanny canine telepathy skills, I can share with my dear readers what was going through the dog's mind at that moment:
Yes! I'm free! Finally! No longer bound by the constraints of plodding humans! Ah, this is the life! Running is where it's at! The joy of letting the muscles of my four legs pump at full capacity, feeling my entire body working! The wind through my fur. Hey, there's a cute beagle over there! She must be impressed with my running prowess, grace and stamina! Oh, please, let this moment never stop! Uhuru! Nirvana! Arf!Every day after that, for the next two weeks, two-legs and four-legs ran together as one. I wonder if the other dogs that would see us on our daily run would get jealous, and start pulling ever more urgently on their respective leashes.
Only now, as I write this, do I wonder if the dog was bitterly disappointed when his master returned, and the daily run reverted to the daily walk. It never occurred to me to inform my two-legged friend of my unorthodox method of walking my new four-legged friend.
Happily, since this episode, my fear of dogs has for the most part subsided. I will admit that I am still not 100% at home with them, and possibly will never be, but I'm certainly able to be in the same space with dogs without that most unpleasant panicky feeling. And I've even actually played with dogs a few times, something I never thought I would ever do for most of my life.
After all, dogs are beloved by so many people around the world, so there must be something very special about them. We enrich our lives by recognizing the potential for positivity in the world wherever it may lie, and working at letting it into our lives.
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