photo credit: Tambako the Jaguar
My dogs freaked me out yesterday.
On our afternoon walk they came across a spot where an old Tbone had been for a week or so. I knew the bone was there and was pleased to get there BEFORE they did. I picked up the bone and tossed it out to the street. It landed in the median. (Okay, maybe not the best strategy but I needed to get rid of it, and had no trash can handy)
There must have been a bit of meat or bone still there. Before I even managed to congratulate myself for pre-empting any issues they were at each others throats. Literally.
I’ve been trained for this sort of issue. When I owned the pet-sitting company I made a point of learning about dealing with pack dogs and random dog attacks because there are a decent number of people around here who seem to think attaching an electronic collar to their dog and letting him run free is all the training he needs. There are others who seem to think that their dog is their little person who will obey them simply out of love and devotion. (not so on either front, people).
All my training went out of my head and I FREAKED OUT. I seem to recall screaming, “NO! STOP. THIS. NOW!” while trying to decide whether to cry or drop the leashes or simply run into the middle of the street myself. It was not pretty.
The dogs had the wild-dog look in their eyes and there was lots of noise and fighting.
Eventually I got my wits about me and managed to break them up. I was shaken and they were panting and agitated.
Because I am who I am I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d “put out there” to the Universe to have this situation reflected back at me in such a disturbing way.
I wish I could say I have the answer or that the Universe answered my query. There’s nothing concrete for me to hang onto. Still, there’s the fact that I’d been running an idea for a post through my mind about people and the “stuff” we lay on our dogs and other pets. And the fact that you can read almost everything about a person by interacting with their pet.
It’s still a good post idea and you can look for it in a few days or so.
You might think that I came to the conclusion that the message was about pent-up anger, or fighting for scraps or some other repressed fear of mine.
What occurs to me though, is that dogs are dogs. They are our companions, our friends and more often than not our spiritual teachers. Still, they are canines, not human. It was a reminder to bring that point forward when I write the post. My dogs were doing what they are hard-wired to do – fight for a high value prize. Even though they “love” me, and despite the fact that they both are well fed with a highly nutritious diet with a generous smattering of high value, high protein (high cost) treats – they still would fight to the pain for a small chunk of 7 day old meat/bone lying on the side of the street.
When I asked them about it they simply reminded me that they are dogs. They do what they do because it is their way. There was no ‘remorse’ or sadness or guilt.
Being a dog is not at all like being a human and vice versa. Our dogs react to us, reflect our challenges and our fears and at the end of the day they are doing what they are hard-wired to do. Even if that means freaking out their human.
