An odd love story
Sep. 9th, 2010 12:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabrinamariWhen we moved into this complex a year ago, I started to explore the territory around me. I discovered that whenever I walked to the main road, a dog who lived across the street would start barking loudly and furiously. He could sense me coming from pretty far away, and he would run up to the white wooden fence that obscured him and rage at me furiously.
It was loud and scary, and it really annoyed me.
But after a few experiences like this, I started to talk to him. As I'd walk by, I'd call out to him sweetly and tell him how lovely he was, and what a gorgeous dog he was to me. This confused him, and he'd stop barking for a moment or two before beginning again. After a bit of time passed, I started walking up to the fence speaking sing-song sweet nothings, and always, he would run away. He'd hear me coming, turn tail and flee.
But I kept coming around and after awhile, we got a good routine established. He'd stop and listen as I walked up and petted him with my voice. Over about six months he started coming closer and closer to a break in the fence and I started to stay with him for longer and longer.
At perhaps seven months in, he stuck his head out of the break to meet me, and I could see that he was a beautiful black Labrador Retriever. I spent some days? weeks? standing next to him for several minutes at a time talking because increasingly, I enjoyed his company. I looked forward to the sound of his barking, which now seemed welcoming rather than scary, and he seemed to like to my visits, too.
The first time I tried to touch him it didn't work at all. He jerked his head back and ran away. It didn't work the second or third time, either.
I was scared to death as I reached out my hand, because I understood that he could take a bite out of me anytime he wanted to. I would reach out carefully, trying to slow my beating heart to a steady pace, but he could probably smell my fear. After all, he wasn't mine, and I had no business reaching out to him anyway. He was obviously the guard dog for some other family, the people who lived behind the white fence.
Yes, I know this was risky. I know this was stupid. I did it anyway.
I kept trying, and eventually, I touched him and he did not bite me. Things shifted at this point, moving to a place where I could stroke his head and ears and tell him how much I loved doing it, which was absolutely true. I missed him whenever I walked by and didn't see him and my heart leaped with happiness whenever I heard him barking from somewhere behind the fence because I knew we might get to visit for awhile.
We got so comfortable with each other that I was able to give him a good long scratching: under his chin, all along his ears, on the top of his head...but sometimes he would whine after a few minutes, as if he thought he was doing something wrong. I started to wonder if he'd been trained in a formal program of some kind or another: maybe I was inadvertently contradicting his conditioning and breaking some kind of rule about fraternizing with strangers.
So I learned just how long I could pet him without making him miserable, and I pushed right up against that edge. Ever since I've moved in with Michael, I haven't been able to have companion animals. Michael's too allergic, so I must fulfill my need for puppy love elsewhere. I look for friendly animals who want a little love, and I'm careful to wash up as soon as I come home so Michael will not be exposed to any allergins.
Over the hottest part of the summer, my dog friend disappeared. I would walk by his fence and call and call out to him, but he wouldn't come. I think he was being kept inside, or maybe his family took him on vacation. I really, really missed him and started to worry after a few weeks.
A few days ago he reappeared. As I started walking towards the fence, I heard his mad barking. But it wasn't the friendly greeting I expected---it was a warning to stay away from his territory. He had forgotten me! My heart broke, but I called out to him anyway. He kept barking as I walked right up to our regular meeting place, petting him with my voice and telling him how much I'd missed him.
When I arrived and waited, he wouldn't come. I couldn't believe it---I was so sad! I went back the next day and tried again, and he got a little closer to the break in the fence, but I could barely coax him over. When I put out my hand I was terrified, and he could clearly tell. He didn't bite me but he started back and began barking furiously, scaring me badly. I kept talking, but I backed away, troubled.
I went back again two days later to try once more. This time he came to the break, still barking, sniffed my hand and jerked away. Sadly, I turned to go. Maybe our friendship was over. But as I walked away, his barking became punctuated with the most painful howls I've ever heard. They sounded like cries of pure anguish. He'd howl, pause, and then start barking again. I ran back at the sound of his pain to try and sooth him, but he wouldn't come to the fence. He just kept howling in pain. Finally I walked away, thinking that I should never go back.
What right did I have to put this poor dog in so much anguish just to fulfill my own desire for connection? Was it worth hurting him to try and reforge our bond? It didn't seem just or fair or right to torment him this way. Although I know it sounds ridiculous, I was really sad at the loss of my dog friend. Finally, I decided to not to go back and or try again.
Walking back from the gym this morning, I heard him bark, but it wasn't the angry stay-away bark: it was a more welcoming sound. Fool that I am, I ran over to the fence and began talking to him once more. To my shock, he ran right over to me and plopped out his head, allowing me to pet him and stroke him and talk to him as if nothing bad had ever happened. I pulled back well before I wanted to stop because I thought I shouldn't push my luck. After all, at any moment, things could turn difficult.
But he stayed calm and quiet, looking at me patiently, so I slowly began again. When I did pull back, he didn't. He stayed. Not wanting to risk a disaster, I finally pulled back and walked away slowly, watching him. He never pulled away---not till I was many paces back.
Next time, I will stay with him much longer.
I am so glad he is back!
It was loud and scary, and it really annoyed me.
But after a few experiences like this, I started to talk to him. As I'd walk by, I'd call out to him sweetly and tell him how lovely he was, and what a gorgeous dog he was to me. This confused him, and he'd stop barking for a moment or two before beginning again. After a bit of time passed, I started walking up to the fence speaking sing-song sweet nothings, and always, he would run away. He'd hear me coming, turn tail and flee.
But I kept coming around and after awhile, we got a good routine established. He'd stop and listen as I walked up and petted him with my voice. Over about six months he started coming closer and closer to a break in the fence and I started to stay with him for longer and longer.
At perhaps seven months in, he stuck his head out of the break to meet me, and I could see that he was a beautiful black Labrador Retriever. I spent some days? weeks? standing next to him for several minutes at a time talking because increasingly, I enjoyed his company. I looked forward to the sound of his barking, which now seemed welcoming rather than scary, and he seemed to like to my visits, too.
The first time I tried to touch him it didn't work at all. He jerked his head back and ran away. It didn't work the second or third time, either.
I was scared to death as I reached out my hand, because I understood that he could take a bite out of me anytime he wanted to. I would reach out carefully, trying to slow my beating heart to a steady pace, but he could probably smell my fear. After all, he wasn't mine, and I had no business reaching out to him anyway. He was obviously the guard dog for some other family, the people who lived behind the white fence.
Yes, I know this was risky. I know this was stupid. I did it anyway.
I kept trying, and eventually, I touched him and he did not bite me. Things shifted at this point, moving to a place where I could stroke his head and ears and tell him how much I loved doing it, which was absolutely true. I missed him whenever I walked by and didn't see him and my heart leaped with happiness whenever I heard him barking from somewhere behind the fence because I knew we might get to visit for awhile.
We got so comfortable with each other that I was able to give him a good long scratching: under his chin, all along his ears, on the top of his head...but sometimes he would whine after a few minutes, as if he thought he was doing something wrong. I started to wonder if he'd been trained in a formal program of some kind or another: maybe I was inadvertently contradicting his conditioning and breaking some kind of rule about fraternizing with strangers.
So I learned just how long I could pet him without making him miserable, and I pushed right up against that edge. Ever since I've moved in with Michael, I haven't been able to have companion animals. Michael's too allergic, so I must fulfill my need for puppy love elsewhere. I look for friendly animals who want a little love, and I'm careful to wash up as soon as I come home so Michael will not be exposed to any allergins.
Over the hottest part of the summer, my dog friend disappeared. I would walk by his fence and call and call out to him, but he wouldn't come. I think he was being kept inside, or maybe his family took him on vacation. I really, really missed him and started to worry after a few weeks.
A few days ago he reappeared. As I started walking towards the fence, I heard his mad barking. But it wasn't the friendly greeting I expected---it was a warning to stay away from his territory. He had forgotten me! My heart broke, but I called out to him anyway. He kept barking as I walked right up to our regular meeting place, petting him with my voice and telling him how much I'd missed him.
When I arrived and waited, he wouldn't come. I couldn't believe it---I was so sad! I went back the next day and tried again, and he got a little closer to the break in the fence, but I could barely coax him over. When I put out my hand I was terrified, and he could clearly tell. He didn't bite me but he started back and began barking furiously, scaring me badly. I kept talking, but I backed away, troubled.
I went back again two days later to try once more. This time he came to the break, still barking, sniffed my hand and jerked away. Sadly, I turned to go. Maybe our friendship was over. But as I walked away, his barking became punctuated with the most painful howls I've ever heard. They sounded like cries of pure anguish. He'd howl, pause, and then start barking again. I ran back at the sound of his pain to try and sooth him, but he wouldn't come to the fence. He just kept howling in pain. Finally I walked away, thinking that I should never go back.
What right did I have to put this poor dog in so much anguish just to fulfill my own desire for connection? Was it worth hurting him to try and reforge our bond? It didn't seem just or fair or right to torment him this way. Although I know it sounds ridiculous, I was really sad at the loss of my dog friend. Finally, I decided to not to go back and or try again.
Walking back from the gym this morning, I heard him bark, but it wasn't the angry stay-away bark: it was a more welcoming sound. Fool that I am, I ran over to the fence and began talking to him once more. To my shock, he ran right over to me and plopped out his head, allowing me to pet him and stroke him and talk to him as if nothing bad had ever happened. I pulled back well before I wanted to stop because I thought I shouldn't push my luck. After all, at any moment, things could turn difficult.
But he stayed calm and quiet, looking at me patiently, so I slowly began again. When I did pull back, he didn't. He stayed. Not wanting to risk a disaster, I finally pulled back and walked away slowly, watching him. He never pulled away---not till I was many paces back.
Next time, I will stay with him much longer.
I am so glad he is back!
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 04:59 pm (UTC)When I was about 10, my Mum began working for someone whose father was the nastiest, grumpiest, rudest old man. This was when she told me that "relentless niceness" was the best way to deal with people like him.
Every time I went to her workplace, I would smile and wave and say hello.
At first, it was because I was Being Brave, and Not Being Intimidated.
Over the following months, it became a game, with me revelling in his confusion. I enjoyed the power of Not Being Intimidated, and I thought of it as Putting One Over The Old Sod.
Then his reaction stopped bothering me. I felt like I no longer needed to prove to myself how brave I was, or how superior. I began smiling and waving and saying hello because... well, because it was nice to do it.
By the time a year had passed, I had begun to feel sorry for him. I wondered why he was so horrid to everyone, if someone had been horrid to him and now he didn't know how to be nice. That seemed really sad. I began to smile and wave and say hello so that SOMEONE would greet him with pleasure.
By 18 months later, he would cheerfully wave and smile and say hello whenever I turned up, and then turn away, slightly embarrassed, and walk back to the workshop. Sometimes, he would turn around and wink.
That gave me enormous pleasure. It was not a deep bond; it was something else - the coming to tenderness of heart.
I hope your dog friend is OK and treated well. If he isn't, he at least has one friend and ally, one source of love and reality. I'm glad of that.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 06:17 pm (UTC)That gave me enormous pleasure. It was not a deep bond; it was something else - the coming to tenderness of heart."
I understand. It feels good to offer tenderness, and even better when it is returned. It's amazing how intensely one can feel small gestures of loving kindness, both in giving them and in embracing them back.
Small experiences like this reassure me that it is never useless to offer another being love, even when I question whether it is a good idea.
I've periodically worried about my dog friend. Sometimes his nose is too dry and he seems dusty and unbrushed. Part of me thinks he needs more love than he is getting. I would gladly give him all the love and attention he wants if he were mine, but all I can do is hope that his family takes good care of him and loves him well. Whenever I can, I will give him my love---even more, now that he is clearly asking for more from me.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 06:22 pm (UTC)When I'm barked at by dogs like that, I generally tell them "oh, hush," or that they're being silly... but then again we have a dog, so I've got the connection waiting at home...
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 09:01 pm (UTC)Im dying to see if Michael is allergic to Bella, she is a non-shedding supposedly hypoallergenic labradoodle. I doubt you can have pets where you are now, but maybe at the next place if he is not allergic i can help u to rescue this type of dog.
hoping to see u soon
much love
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 10:34 pm (UTC)Surely she will relax and learn to lean into you, if you are patient. I was patient with my dog friend and he learned to open himself to me. Over time, Bella will open herself to you, too.
Take heart and don't give up. No one can resist loving touch!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 08:03 pm (UTC)I am learning so much about love this year that I can't even express. I'm dying to reach out and open up and forge new connections...I hope I don't screw it up!