I like dogs - I honestly do. Actually, I'll even say I love dogs. Someday (when I'm responsible, live in a place with more than 1 room, and don't travel...ever) I even hope to have a dog of my very own to play with and walk with and take care of.
In fact, I trained a dog once - Bristles was his name and he was the Grand Champion of the 1991 (or thereabouts) Fountain County 4-H Fair Dog Obediance Competition. Out of all of dogs there (trained by fellow dedicated 4-Hers) my dog sat and stayed better than any of them. Actually, I should stop for a minute and say a little something about Bristles. Bristles was, quite simply, a wonderful dog who never got quite as much credit as he deserved (I think, maybe because he was kind of funny looking). Before I do that, though, I need to talk about a beagle named Phred....and actually, even before that I should tell you about Trig the Norwegian Elkhound....
Faith's History with Dogs:
Trig: Trig was the first dog I ever knew. He lost a leg long before I was born, the result of getting caught in a barbed wire fence when he was still a puppy (he was trying to jump over it and got all twisted up - by the time anybody found him, it was so badly mangled that they had to amputate) so his name fit him really well. One of my very first memories is sitting on a sled while Trig pulled me through the snow (our neighbor, Mr. Wilson, made a dog harness and Trig pulled me - I've seen pictures and it looks like I'm training for the Iditarod at a little over 2 years old). As I grew older, Trig grew grumpier and grumpier, and grumpier (maybe it was the fact that he was forced to pull a 2 year old around in the snow) until old age got the better of him.
Phred (yes, with a PH not an F): Phred wandered up to our house one afternoon and never left. We lived on the outskirts of town which, in a town with a population of 2,500 means we that we didn't have neighbors on all four sides or a sidewalk in front of the house, but that we also didn't live in a cornfield. It was, basically, about the distance town folk were willing to drive to drop off the pets they no longer wanted - close enough that there was still hope the animal could find a nice family and far enough that the animal wouldn't find it's way back to their house. It happened so often that we never went more than a month without a dog or cat because, inevitably, one would show up and move in. Phred was ADORABLE. All beagles are cute but this beagle was incredibly, exceptionally, disgustingly cute. That said, much in the same way the cheerleader in a teen movie is always ditzy, and the nerdy girls always eventually get a makeover, date the football player, and become the prom queen ,cute dogs are often not incredibly bright. Approximately 2 classes into the 4-H dog obediance program it became clear that he simply wasn't an apt pupil. It was totally ok because he could have easily gotten through his dog life (and lived a very happy dog life) strictly on the grounds of being so stinking cute but, unfortunately, his happy-go-lucky/not too bright outlook on life translated directly into an early death on the road in front of our house. :(
...which brings us to Bristles...besides being incredibly sad, Phred's death was inconvenient from a 4-H point of view. I was halfway into the dog training process that summer and not competing at the Fountain County fair in July would set me up with a big fat INCOMPLETE in my 4-H record (and you thought incompletes in college were bad). Still mourning the death of the cutest beagle in the entire world and a little surprised that another stray hadn't shown up, my parents and I made the trek to the humane society to find an obediant-looking dog who might fit into our household after the fair was over.
Bristles: There were tons of great dogs that day but as we walked up and down the aisle looking, my dad kept coming back to one cage. As I walked up to see what had drawn his interest I saw, sitting there, an extremely strange looking dog. The only way to describe the stocky little guy was the loving term "mutt" - the head and paws of a St. Bernard with the height and figure of a bassett hound, things just didn't add up. He was a light tan color and his hair was thick and wirey - not very pett-able. He had puffs of white hair around his ears and mouth which made him look 100 years old even though the sign said he was only 2. We decided on a cute, white fluffy dog in a nearby cage but went home to think it over. When we returned a few days later, the cute dog had been adopted (well, duh, people like cute dogs) but the strange looking dog was still there...deadlines are deadlines and I had dog obedience class the next night so the strangel looking dog is was!
It's hardly difficult to see the moral of this story....the second choice dog (second based solely on appearance) went on to make obediance history and win grand champion at the fair. (Incidentally, this success was a one-year occurance as the next year involved fetching things which Bristles apparently felt was below him).
So, now that you know my entire history with dogs, I feel somehow justified to complain a little bit....here it goes....are you ready....? :)
I like dogs very much....dog owners, however, are a different story.
Now, keep in mind I'm writing this as an early morning city runner who is used to not having to go around things (or people) on the sidewalk. I admit that I'm spoiled because city sidewalks that are fairly crowded at 5:30 PM are very nearly completely empty at 5:30 AM. Sure I occasionally freak out a poor soul who is walking to their office at that crazy hour but even that's rare. (I have yet to figure out a better way of letting somebody know I'm coming...there must be one, though, as running up behind people and slipping past them on the side of the sidewalk seems to be scary for them and a little dangerous for me - one girl almost knocked me out when her self-defense class skills kicked in.)
Probably the people whom I see most often at that early-hour (my main competitors for sidewalk space) are the dog owners.
Not all are bad, many scootch over, courteously stand between other sidewalk dwellers and the dog, and maybe even hold the leash a little tighter - all of which let me know the dog is not going to jump over and bite off a person's leg or arm. I am not, however, going to talk about those dog owners...instead, I would like to talk about the dog owners who, with their dog, take up the ENTIRE sidewalk and won't consider budging a bit for other people on the sidewalk, letting their dog run free and within pouncing distance of anyone in a 6 foot radius.
More upsetting than having to run in the street in order to keep safe distance between myself and a dog is the looks and explanations that owner give me, many times defensively, "he's a very nice dog - he doesn't bite" or "oh, you silly runner, she would never hurt you".
Ok, here's the thing, your dog is an animal. I realize that it's an animal that you love very very much but it's still an animal....and animals can turn. Sure, on the outside, little Fluffy looks all sweet and innocent but inside there is a mean streak just waiting to take a hunk out of a runner at, oh let's say, 5:45 am on a Thursday morning. You don't actually know. The fact that Fido hasn't ever bitten anyone before doesn't mean he won't see something in me that he simply doesn't like.
So, in conclusion, I like dogs (as I believe my history shows) so clearly this has nothing to do with them - I have no deep resentment or fear from being growled at when I was 5 years old or anything like that. I simply want to say to some (not all) dog owners:
1) You don't actually know your dog because your dog is an animal and not a person so please pull the leash closer.
2) The fact that your dog has never bitten anyone does not mean that he/she will not bite me so please pull the leash closer.
3) If 1 and 2 do not apply to you because you are, in actuality, in tune with your dogs thoughts and emotions and you truly believe that your dog will absolutely, without question, not bite me, please pull the leash closer. Even going through the motions would mean the world to the random person who may, perhaps, have deep resentment or fear from being growled at when they were 5 years old.
Thanks! I'll see you and Peaches tomorrow morning at 5:45 am.
In fact, I trained a dog once - Bristles was his name and he was the Grand Champion of the 1991 (or thereabouts) Fountain County 4-H Fair Dog Obediance Competition. Out of all of dogs there (trained by fellow dedicated 4-Hers) my dog sat and stayed better than any of them. Actually, I should stop for a minute and say a little something about Bristles. Bristles was, quite simply, a wonderful dog who never got quite as much credit as he deserved (I think, maybe because he was kind of funny looking). Before I do that, though, I need to talk about a beagle named Phred....and actually, even before that I should tell you about Trig the Norwegian Elkhound....
Faith's History with Dogs:
Trig: Trig was the first dog I ever knew. He lost a leg long before I was born, the result of getting caught in a barbed wire fence when he was still a puppy (he was trying to jump over it and got all twisted up - by the time anybody found him, it was so badly mangled that they had to amputate) so his name fit him really well. One of my very first memories is sitting on a sled while Trig pulled me through the snow (our neighbor, Mr. Wilson, made a dog harness and Trig pulled me - I've seen pictures and it looks like I'm training for the Iditarod at a little over 2 years old). As I grew older, Trig grew grumpier and grumpier, and grumpier (maybe it was the fact that he was forced to pull a 2 year old around in the snow) until old age got the better of him.
Phred (yes, with a PH not an F): Phred wandered up to our house one afternoon and never left. We lived on the outskirts of town which, in a town with a population of 2,500 means we that we didn't have neighbors on all four sides or a sidewalk in front of the house, but that we also didn't live in a cornfield. It was, basically, about the distance town folk were willing to drive to drop off the pets they no longer wanted - close enough that there was still hope the animal could find a nice family and far enough that the animal wouldn't find it's way back to their house. It happened so often that we never went more than a month without a dog or cat because, inevitably, one would show up and move in. Phred was ADORABLE. All beagles are cute but this beagle was incredibly, exceptionally, disgustingly cute. That said, much in the same way the cheerleader in a teen movie is always ditzy, and the nerdy girls always eventually get a makeover, date the football player, and become the prom queen ,cute dogs are often not incredibly bright. Approximately 2 classes into the 4-H dog obediance program it became clear that he simply wasn't an apt pupil. It was totally ok because he could have easily gotten through his dog life (and lived a very happy dog life) strictly on the grounds of being so stinking cute but, unfortunately, his happy-go-lucky/not too bright outlook on life translated directly into an early death on the road in front of our house. :(
...which brings us to Bristles...besides being incredibly sad, Phred's death was inconvenient from a 4-H point of view. I was halfway into the dog training process that summer and not competing at the Fountain County fair in July would set me up with a big fat INCOMPLETE in my 4-H record (and you thought incompletes in college were bad). Still mourning the death of the cutest beagle in the entire world and a little surprised that another stray hadn't shown up, my parents and I made the trek to the humane society to find an obediant-looking dog who might fit into our household after the fair was over.
Bristles: There were tons of great dogs that day but as we walked up and down the aisle looking, my dad kept coming back to one cage. As I walked up to see what had drawn his interest I saw, sitting there, an extremely strange looking dog. The only way to describe the stocky little guy was the loving term "mutt" - the head and paws of a St. Bernard with the height and figure of a bassett hound, things just didn't add up. He was a light tan color and his hair was thick and wirey - not very pett-able. He had puffs of white hair around his ears and mouth which made him look 100 years old even though the sign said he was only 2. We decided on a cute, white fluffy dog in a nearby cage but went home to think it over. When we returned a few days later, the cute dog had been adopted (well, duh, people like cute dogs) but the strange looking dog was still there...deadlines are deadlines and I had dog obedience class the next night so the strangel looking dog is was!
It's hardly difficult to see the moral of this story....the second choice dog (second based solely on appearance) went on to make obediance history and win grand champion at the fair. (Incidentally, this success was a one-year occurance as the next year involved fetching things which Bristles apparently felt was below him).
So, now that you know my entire history with dogs, I feel somehow justified to complain a little bit....here it goes....are you ready....? :)
I like dogs very much....dog owners, however, are a different story.
Now, keep in mind I'm writing this as an early morning city runner who is used to not having to go around things (or people) on the sidewalk. I admit that I'm spoiled because city sidewalks that are fairly crowded at 5:30 PM are very nearly completely empty at 5:30 AM. Sure I occasionally freak out a poor soul who is walking to their office at that crazy hour but even that's rare. (I have yet to figure out a better way of letting somebody know I'm coming...there must be one, though, as running up behind people and slipping past them on the side of the sidewalk seems to be scary for them and a little dangerous for me - one girl almost knocked me out when her self-defense class skills kicked in.)
Probably the people whom I see most often at that early-hour (my main competitors for sidewalk space) are the dog owners.
Not all are bad, many scootch over, courteously stand between other sidewalk dwellers and the dog, and maybe even hold the leash a little tighter - all of which let me know the dog is not going to jump over and bite off a person's leg or arm. I am not, however, going to talk about those dog owners...instead, I would like to talk about the dog owners who, with their dog, take up the ENTIRE sidewalk and won't consider budging a bit for other people on the sidewalk, letting their dog run free and within pouncing distance of anyone in a 6 foot radius.
More upsetting than having to run in the street in order to keep safe distance between myself and a dog is the looks and explanations that owner give me, many times defensively, "he's a very nice dog - he doesn't bite" or "oh, you silly runner, she would never hurt you".
Ok, here's the thing, your dog is an animal. I realize that it's an animal that you love very very much but it's still an animal....and animals can turn. Sure, on the outside, little Fluffy looks all sweet and innocent but inside there is a mean streak just waiting to take a hunk out of a runner at, oh let's say, 5:45 am on a Thursday morning. You don't actually know. The fact that Fido hasn't ever bitten anyone before doesn't mean he won't see something in me that he simply doesn't like.
So, in conclusion, I like dogs (as I believe my history shows) so clearly this has nothing to do with them - I have no deep resentment or fear from being growled at when I was 5 years old or anything like that. I simply want to say to some (not all) dog owners:
1) You don't actually know your dog because your dog is an animal and not a person so please pull the leash closer.
2) The fact that your dog has never bitten anyone does not mean that he/she will not bite me so please pull the leash closer.
3) If 1 and 2 do not apply to you because you are, in actuality, in tune with your dogs thoughts and emotions and you truly believe that your dog will absolutely, without question, not bite me, please pull the leash closer. Even going through the motions would mean the world to the random person who may, perhaps, have deep resentment or fear from being growled at when they were 5 years old.
Thanks! I'll see you and Peaches tomorrow morning at 5:45 am.
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