One of my techs and I had a conversation last week about the amazement we sometimes have over the things that seem like they should be common knowledge that apparently aren’t. I can’t remember what triggered the conversation at this time, but today, I’m back on the same thought train. Why do people say or do or think the things that they do sometimes? Is my brain really that different from so many other people? Do they not think in some of these cases? Are they just distracted? What is the logic?
I’m sure that everyone runs into plenty of moments like this, whether at work or trying to navigate the world at large. My tech seems to think that these instances have become more frequent for her. I don’t know that I can say the same (unless we’re talking about the tendency of others to act entitled and like no one else matters at all besides them and maybe their progeny). I’m just frustrated today by other local dog owners, who don’t seem to understand either dogs or humans. This post has nothing specific to do with veterinary medicine or any patient I’ve ever treated. It just to do with dogs and interactions between dog owners. Here goes:
I want to start by saying that I really am happy for anyone that has not experienced life with a reactive dog. It must be lovely to just walk out your front door with your dog and not have to watch for bicycles or runners or kids doing weird, random kid things or UPS trucks or other dogs. Flint was (mostly) like that. He could be nervous, especially in the beginning, and he would, when he was young, get very excited to see other dogs and jump and pull a little bit. He learned relatively quickly though to mind himself when out and about. Magic can be that way, if she’s not with Rook and she’s in a calm mental space, and you’re not a UPS truck. Rook is better than he used to be. He can be great in certain situations, like if he knows he’s in a training class. He’s also generally pretty well-behaved and good at not reacting to other dogs on the beach. In the neighborhood, I have to stay on alert for all of the things that build his excitement until he eventually can’t contain himself. He’s had too much practice reacting to things in the neighborhood over his lifetime, before I took it seriously.
These days, Rookie can behave reasonably well most of the time if he’s out on a walk by himself, even in the neighborhood. Both of my dogs do generally like other dogs, and I will allow them to greet other dogs if I just have one of them, or if Justin is with us, and we’re each responsible for one of them. I go out of my way to NOT allow them to greet other dogs if it’s just me and both of them. Combined, they weigh more than I do, and Magic alone is stronger than I am. If saying, “hello,” goes south for any reason, I can’t do much. As I said before, I stay vigilant. If I see or hear anything coming that may put them over threshold, we move. We cross the street. We turn around. We walk across a field at the school up the street. We hide behind a car. I ask them to sit and look at me, maybe touch my hand. I give them cheese for paying attention to me and not whatever else is going on around them.
I’ll reiterate: my dogs are a pair of idiots when they’re together. Rook is more likely to react to the environment when he’s with Magic than when he’s by himself and my sole focus. If he gets too excited, he turns to Magic and starts biting her. He bites his leash or her leash and starts tugging. Magic, as good as she can be when solo, knows how Rook is. She knows what (and which neighbor dogs) really set(s) him off, and she’s ready to go and help fire him up. There’s barking, lunging, and me trying to keep my feet under me while holding them back from whatever they’re losing their minds over. It’s not pretty. It’s embarrassing and ruins my walk at the very least and my day at the worst, if I’m already on edge about other things that have happened before that walk. (Life and the environment fills all of our emotional buckets, not just dogs.) I have become self-aware enough that if I leave the house with them and too much seems to be happening for all of us, we abort the walk quite quickly.
Today, I left work early. It’s February and a slow time of year. I got home, made lunch, figured it was early and pretty nice out for winter in SE PA. The dogs and I set out for a moderate-length walk around the neighborhood. There were a few other walkers out and about, with and without dogs. We did our normal thing, crossing streets, walking one block further, etc. to not have to directly pass anyone. Some dogs barked at us from their windows as we passed their homes, but Rook was easily focused back on me since he didn’t actually see those dogs. All was going well until we were almost back home.
We were walking along the sidewalk by the school up the street from our house. There was a woman walking a dog behind us. She had been a good distance back, but when we crossed the street to the school, she caught up because we had to wait for traffic. Magic noticed her, and, because everything is Magic’s business in her mind, she kept turning around to look at them even with me reminding her that they were not, in fact, her business. She finally got over it about the time I saw a man walking a small dog on the same side of the road as us and heading our way. Further up the road, another man appeared with a dog about Rookie’s size. He also crossed over to our side of the road.
I took that time to cross the street and step behind a series of parked cars. I asked my dogs to sit and look at me. I heard the man with the small dog greet the woman and her dog that had been behind us. I turned and saw her continuing on her way. I asked for my dogs’ attention again but saw they were a bit hesitant to give it. I turned around again only to find the man with the small dog headed right for us, his dog happily pulling at the end of its leash. As I turned to look at him, he says, “She wants to say, ‘hi!'”
By this time, both of my dogs have forgotten that I exist or that they ever knew manners of any kind. Rookie is chortling. Both of them are wagging and lunging. I’m trying to rein them back in, as Rook starts grabbing Magic’s leash and yanking it. The man is STILL approaching us as all of this is happening. I tell him they can be reactive (which I would think it obvious by then?), and he’s STILL coming towards us. Eventually, I said, “I’d prefer not to!” His response, as he FINALLY moves to the other side of the car and continues down the street is an offended-sounding, “Sorry.”
At this point, I finally have some level of attention back from both dogs. I look to see where the other guy with his dog has gotten to, hoping that he’s continued his walk and is nowhere to be seen.
Nope.
The other guy is standing on the other the street, just watching us. I keep asking my dogs for their attention and feeding them cheese while checking every few seconds to see which direction this man intends to go. Unfortunately, he continues to stand in one spot, a spot that we have to pass no matter whether we turn right at the upcoming block and extend our walk or go straight to head back home as was the original plan. The only good thing about his placement is that neither Rook nor Magic can see that he has a dog from where they are behind the car, and his dog, thankfully, is quiet.
Eventually, it’s quite clear to me that we will be living behind this car indefinitely if I don’t just move us somewhere. We walk backwards and cross to the other side of the street again, but instead of taking the side walk, we continue into the field outside of the school (that is currently a mud pit). Since neither dog ever saw that this man has a dog of his own, I keep them on short leashes, noses pointed forward, moving ahead at a steady pace until we’re well passed the other dog owner and pop back onto the sidewalk.
This is where my brain gets stuck: how are these other people processing their surroundings? If you saw me see you and then watched me intentionally walk across the street, stop behind a car so that my dogs cannot see you clearly, ask them to sit and proceed to stand with my back to you, myself positioned between you and my dogs and repeatedly ask for my dogs’ attention, WHY WOULD EVER THINK YOU SHOULD APPROACH US FOR YOUR DOG TO SAY, “HI!”?! How can I be more obvious that you should absolutely NOT do that? What other body language can I throw out there that says, “Please leave us alone!” Do you not understand that if I were to TALK to you with words, that it is game over for me? (Side note: this is not the first time I have had interactions like this with other dog owners, and it is not only in my neighborhood.)
As for the second guy… Did you miss everything that just transpired with the first guy? Did you not hear my dogs barking and whining? Did you not see them jumping and pulling at their own and one another’s leashes? Did you not see me physically struggling to hold them back until the first guy finally got the message and changed his course? Did it not cross your mind that we are continuing to stay behind the cars because I want you to keep going without my dogs seeing your dog so that we can also keep going? WHY WOULD YOU CONTINUE TO JUST STAND THERE AND STARE AT US?! I shouldn’t have to interact with you at this point. You should know what you need to do, and it is absolutely NOT to remain in place.
I don’t have a solution. I think if dogs or people came with manuals, no one would read them. If they did, they’d forget or ignore whatever instructions they read in them and just do whatever idiotic things they were already going to do. I just want to be able to enjoy a walk around my neighborhood with my dogs. I did everything I could think to do to make it pleasant for us, but you can’t control other people. I’m just at a complete loss as to what some other people are thinking. If anyone can explain it to me, I’m all ears.
“Dog training is a never-ending process of evolving.” ~ Ivan Balabanov
