I find it really difficult to be grateful for dogs. I am not a dog-lover, neither am I a dog-hater. For me it depends on the dog. This is rather an awkward position to take given how absolutely barmy people have become about dogs. I, on the other hand, have been traumatized thousands of times by vicious and aggressive dogs. Think I'm exaggerating, Gentle Reader? Well, let me tell you a thing or two. I was just ten years old when I had my first traumatic encounters with dogs. One was a vicious German Shepherd, the other a Doberman Pinscher. Both were in my neighbourhood and I somehow narrowly escaped being attacked when they were off leash. The dogs would approach me barking and snarling. Remembering my father's instructions, I simply froze and said and did nothing while they kept menacing me. They would eventually give up and leave and I would slink home petrified with fear. This probably went on for about a year.
Given my penchant for long walks in residential neighbourhoods along with the lack of control people had over their dogs during the seventies and eighties I was many times threatened and occasionally bitten by dogs running around loose. I was still trying to like dogs in those days and after making the mistake of trying to pet strange dogs and nearly suffering the consequences I began to keep my distance.
When I moved back to Richmond where I rented a farmhouse on an acre of land for six years I would twice daily take a walk around the huge block I lived in, in this case, a thirty minute hike. On one end of my road lived a vicious black lab. On the other end, lived another vicious black lab. Frequently the dogs would get out of their yard and try to threaten and menace me. Then a Doberman pup moved in. As it matured it also became aggressive and also would get out of the yard and try to attack me. This went on for years and I reckon that I must have had to endure hundreds of dangerous encounters with those and other neighbourhood dogs. Amazingly, I was never bitten.
When I was succumbing to symptoms of PTSD I became truly terrified of vicious dogs and I remember a few situations where I would stand helplessly crying out for someone to help me while being besieged by large angry dogs that could have torn me to pieces.
Following all those traumatic occurrences, it really amazes and galls me that some people are still stupid enough to assume there is something wrong with me because I don't like dogs. I think it is an absolute marvel that I don't hate them.
Where I do feel gratitude is for the dogs that have befriended me. As with people so with animals: I refuse to demonize an entire genre or class or race, nationality or species because of a few bad experiences. I take people as they come, as individuals; likewise dogs, and cats, which animals I actually like. In that same rural neighbourhood in Richmond I was befriended by a very noble German Shepherd-Husky cross who, with the blessing of its owners, became my buddy for most of the six years I lived there. We often went for walks together, sometimes he would visit me at home. One morning at four something he even found his way into my house and jumped onto my bed to wake me up and play with him! I loved that dog.
Even though I was threatened and traumatized yesterday by a vicious off-leash pit bull I still refuse to turn into a dog hater. I know that the problem isn't the dog but the stupid woman who owns it. I am just about recovered from the trauma though I still feel a bit skittish around dogs, which for me isn't a problem, since I really don't care much about them to begin with. Except as certain individual dogs, friendly, affectionate and sweet-natured.
I understand the significant role that pets, particularly dogs, play in the lives of their humans. While I still think it's something pathetic the way people dote on their animals and treat them like honorary humans I appreciate that their dogs are really often the only real source of affection in their lives. I imagine that a lot of people owe their relative mental wellness to the unconditional, and undeserved, love and devotion they get from their dogs. Even though I find this obsession with doggy love to be a sad reflection on many people's inability to form healthy bonds with other humans, I appreciate the therapeutic value of having a pet. I still don't believe it's a fair, balanced or equal arrangement for the poor animal, who has little choice but offer unconditional love in exchange for free kibble and housing. It's rather like keeping a hostage, I would think.
I think one of my best experiences with dogs happened when I was a boy of seventeen, living at the time on Vancouver Island. I was hiking in the woods up the Cowichan River and two beautiful dogs befriended me: a husky and a black German Shepherd. Together we ran and wandered like wild free beings throught the forest. We had a warm parting as I left to return home. I never saw those dogs again.
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