The Midnight Dog Walkers E-Book

Annie Phenix

• Herausgeber: CompanionHouse Books
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 289

Beschreibung

Aggression is a subject that no dog owner wants to talk about, but one that many owners have to face. Statistics show that aggression is not only the most serious problem in dogs but also the top reason for owners to seek out professional help for their pets. Left unchecked, an aggressive dog can become a dangerous dog, and this informative volume comes to the aid of many heartbroken owners who feel that they have tried everything to correct their dogs' unpredictable and inappropriate behavior. Author and certified dog trainer Annie Phenix shares her belief that many reactive dogs can be rehabilitated with the right training, and she offers her expertise in positive, force-free training methods to desperate owners who have resorted to extreme measures to keep their dogs away from other people and animals.Inside The Midnight Dog Walkers:Stories and practical examples from the author based on aggressive dogs she's trained and ownedBehavioral warning signs that owners should recognizeDefinitions of different types of aggression and why they occurTips on how to handle a potentially aggressive or aggressive dogThe author's force-free training philosophy and how she applies it with her clients to effect positive changesPopular myths and misconceptions about training these "grumpy growlers"

Leseprobe

Dedication

I have always gravitated toward love, even when there was none to be found in my childhood home—except outside, sitting in the dark on the back porch, where I couldn’t hear family members yelling at one another, petting my dog, Cricket. His eyes affirmed for me that love existed. This book is for the dogs and those kind humans who love them.

THE MIDNIGHT DOG WALKER

CompanionHouse Books™ is an imprint of Fox Chapel Publishers International Ltd.

Project Team

Vice President–Content: Christopher Reggio

Editor: Amy Deputato

Copy Editor: Joann Woy

Design: Mary Ann Kahn

Copyright © 2016 by Fox Chapel Publishers International Ltd.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Fox Chapel Publishers, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Phenix, Annie.

Title: The midnight dog walkers : positive training and practical advice

for living with reactive and aggressive dogs / Annie Phenix, CPDT-KA.

Description: Irvine, CA : i-5 Press, 2016. | Includes index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2015043473 | ISBN 9781621871163 (softcover)

Subjects: LCSH: Dogs--Training. | Dogs--Behavior. | Aggressive behavior in animals.

Classification: LCC SF431 .P45 2016 | DDC 636.7/0887--dc23 LC record

available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015043473

eBook ISBN 978-1-62187-118-7

This book has been published with the intent to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter within. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author and publisher expressly disclaim any responsibility for any errors, omissions, or adverse effects arising from the use or application of the information contained herein. The techniques and suggestions are used at the reader’s discretion and are not to be considered a substitute for veterinary care. If you suspect a medical problem, consult your veterinarian.

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CONTENTS

WHAT IS THE MIDNIGHT DOG WALKERS’ CLUB?

THE $12,000 ROTTWEILER: I’VE BEEN WHERE YOU ARE

TROUBLED DOGS: THE SCOPE OF THE PROBLEM

A DOG TRAINERS’S STREET EDUCATION

WHAT DOESN’T WORK AND WHY

THE BEGINNING MATTERS

DR. PAVLOV SITS ON YOUR SHOULDER

THE COUNTERCONDITIONING REVOLUTION: HOW TO UN-RING THE BELL

THE REAL SECRETS TO GREAT DOG TRAINING

DON’T WALK THE DOG

GOOD LEASHES MAKE FOR GOOD NEIGHBORS

THE TRIFECTA FOR A CURE: VETERINARIANS, TRAINERS, AND OWNERS

THE COVENANT WITH MAN’S BEST FRIEND

Bibliography

Resources

Photo Credits

About the Author

Praise for The Midnight Dog Walkers

INTRODUCTION

Unwanted canine behavior in the United States kills dogs at three times the rate that they die from cancer. A snarling, growling, or biting dog stands a serious chance of losing his life, and it often hardly matters what happened to the dog to provoke such a response. Our society is intolerant of dogs that demonstrate that they are uncomfortable in their environment with a warning growl or an air snap, and a bite can be a certain death warrant. Even so, when a dog does show aggressive behavior, many of us still deeply love that dog. It is our shared bond that puts committed dog owners on the hunt to find viable solutions for their best four-legged friends.

Dogs have broken my heart in many ways, many times over. Through no fault of their own, dangerous or highly dysfunctional dogs do show up from time to time. I’ve cried alongside clients who’ve made the hardest decision that one has to make in a relationship with a dog, and that is to put the dog down before it is physically his time because of pathological, unsolvable behavior problems. My world was shattered when I walked that final road with a young female German Shepherd.

Dogs have also healed me. They’ve been my confidants, my companions, my protectors, and my life for fifty years. I have become an open-hearted human because of what I first learned from dogs—even though, like so many dogs I’ve helped, I had a rough start in life. With dogs by my side, I was able to survive a difficult childhood; one of my dogs even followed my bus to school every day and would seek me out during recess. I owe dogs a lot. One dog literally saved my life—twice.

With dogs come their owners. I was so let down by observing the cruel things that humans do to dogs that I was becoming reactive (overreacting to everyday situations) and aggressive (defensive or even wanting to do harm) toward others. My level of compassion for dogs never waned, but my affection for people began to ebb away. Then something astounding happened: I found my tribe of humans. They are you: the owners who care enough about the well-being of their troubled dogs that they read a book like this one.

Here, I share stories of my long life with dogs as a way to pay homage to their incredible natures and their willingness to be a great comfort to millions of us. Dogs bring us joy and love—at least, those are our expectations of them. Life gets complicated for man and dog alike when a dog’s behavior doesn’t match up with our expectations. I write for the average dog owner who finds him- or herself living with a dog that displays serious behavioral concerns, such as growling, lunging at other dogs or people, or attempting to bite other dogs or people. Some things in this book will be hard to read because I don’t shy away from sharing what can happen to dogs when owners don’t stand up for fair and ethical training and breeding practices. I also don’t leave out my own learning curve with dogs. We are not born experts, and I had to wade through bad dog-training information as much as anyone else.

If you are living with a troubled dog, the most important thing you can do is bring in a truly experienced and knowledgeable dog trainer or behaviorist as soon as the unwanted behavior shows up. It does no one (least of all, the dog) any favors to wait with the expectation that your dog will outgrow these serious issues, such as aggression or fear-driven behavior. Dogs will get worse without proper, force-free intervention. Although I present some of the most modern, scientifically proven ways to help a dog, the very first thing I want you to do, before you try any of these tools yourself, is to get professional help and then use this book as an additional guide alongside the professional trainer’s work. I’ll tell you in this book how to find that qualified professional who will be able to help you master the tools you’ll need to see true behavioral change.

I see this book as not only a warning about what not to do to but also as a truly inspiring journey that shows just how far dog owners are able to take their once-troubled housemates. Many of my clients have gone on to obtain the American Kennel Club’s Canine Good Citizen titles for their once-reactive dogs, and they are now out in the world, walking their dogs during normal hours, going on group hikes, and participating in dog sports.

One of my goals in writing this book is to help troubled dogs find peace in their homes as their owners become more informed about canine behavior and how dogs learn. My goal is also to reach out through the pages to you—the compassionate owner—to tell you that you are not alone and that there are solutions for most dogs. We can often reduce our dogs’ anxiety, and we can often replace their unwanted behaviors with desired behaviors. In many ways, it is a fortunate time to own a troubled dog because so many bright minds across many fields of study are exploring what makes dogs tick and how we can best help them.

My final goal is to serve as a coach in helping you change your dog’s behavior so that you can retire from the Midnight Dog Walkers’ Club: a lonely club of dog owners who become so embarrassed or worn out by their dogs’ behavior in public that they resort to walking their dogs at off hours in an attempt to avoid their dogs’ making a scene.

It is true that in order to change another species’ behavior, we must first change our own. Change is not easy for you or for your dog, but it is worthwhile, especially when it brings serenity back into both of your lives. A troubled dog—especially one baring his teeth—does not have a good outlook for a long life without your help. It’s as simple and as real as that.

I’ve walked countless dog owners through this process, and I have faith that you, too, can see improvements in your dog’s quality of life, thereby improving your own as well.

Note: I have changed some of the humans’ and dogs’ names to provide privacy for my clients. I also chose to call dogs “him” or “her” and not “it.” I believe each dog to be a sentient, unique being with his or her own personality and therefore not an “it.”

Chapter 1

WHAT IS THE MIDNIGHT DOG WALKERS’ CLUB?

The Midnight Dog Walkers’ Club is a lonely and often tense place. Many of my clients and many of you reading this book are so concerned about or embarrassed by their dogs’ behavior in public that they take their dogs out at midnight. Walking a troubled dog at that hour—or at other off-peak hours—in an effort to keep the dog from barking, lunging, or growling (some of my clients describe their dogs as making “hysterical” sounds) at other dogs or people has become a solution of sorts for thousands of dog owners. On the surface, it seems like a viable, sensible solution, but there are problems with using this approach—one of them being that it lacks practicality. We’re busy people, and we’re also a sleepless nation, and we’re frankly too tired and our days too long to realistically take our dogs out for many late-night walks.

The biggest concern with this solution is that it does nothing to help an anxious dog learn to relax around his triggers (stimuli in the environment that cause over-the-top reactions from the dog). Triggers are different for each dog, based on what worries each individual dog. Other dogs are often a trigger, but it can be people, bikes, skateboards, baby strollers, and so on. I’ve worked with dogs that seemingly have just one trigger (for example, large black dogs with floppy ears), but many more dogs seem to have several. The trigger might even start out as just a fear of other dogs, but the dog remains in such a heightened state of worry that the fear response can expand to other triggers, such as children or bicycles.

Some owners decide that it’s safest for everyone if their dogs never leave the confines of home. There are serious liability risks to having a snarling dog out in public, so I understand why some make this difficult choice. The stay-at-home choice also does not change the dog’s internal state. In fact, if the dog can see his trigger strolling past a window or fence each day, he will engage in fence running, which strengthens the very behavior we hate seeing on walks. The dog barks, lunges, and makes a real scene, and the scary thing moves away—thus the dog views his behavior as very effective (no matter that the other dog or person was headed away from the reactive dog’s territory on his or her own anyway).

Reactive versus Aggressive

What exactly is a “reactive dog,” the most common member of the Midnight Dog Walkers’ Club? A reactive dog is a dog whose arousal levels go beyond an adaptive level. Another way of putting it is this: a reactive dog is one that responds to normal events in his environment with a higher-than-normal level of intensity. Some of these overreactions include barking, whining, lunging, hypervigilance, panting, pacing, restlessness, and difficulty responding to his owner, even for well-known cues such as “sit.”

There is a difference between a reactive dog and an aggressive dog, even though some dog trainers sometimes have trouble telling the difference between the two. What behavior displayed by a dog is considered to be aggressive? I use the definition that Dr. James O’Heare, DLBC, uses: “Aggression is defined as attacks, attempted attacks, or threats of attack by one individual directed at another individual.”

A dog’s reactivity can make it hard to go for on-leash walks.

Fear and Anxiety

There is also a difference in a dog’s response depending on whether he starts from a place of fear or anxiety. Dr. Karen Overall, MA, VMD, PhD, states the following in her hefty textbook designed for veterinarians, Manual of Clinical Behavioral Medicine for Dogs and Cats: “Although anxiety and arousal may be the underlying stimuli that give rise to a fearful response…fear is characterized by physical withdrawal, decreased social interaction, and clear signaling that interaction will be truncated and that the subject/signaler wishes to disengage and is not an overt threat. Purely anxious behavior can range from [a] more overt, provocative one to full withdrawal. Dogs that are driven primarily by anxiety may put themselves into a social system, although it makes them uncomfortable and worried.” That, in a nutshell, helps owners understand why their snarling, barking, lunging dog might just insert himself right in the face of an oncoming “threat.”

A dog saddled with a heightened state of arousal, one that is beyond a so-called normal reaction, is a dog that many owners consider embarrassing or out of control. It’s that “hysterical” dog out on a walk with his owner, who is often being pulled down the street. It’s the owner who is either screaming at his dog to “stop it!” or is quietly blushing a deep crimson color, wishing to be anywhere but there in that moment. His dog doesn’t want to be there, either, and most of the theatrics that the dog displays are actually distance-increasing behaviors: the dog is telling the threat to “go away!”

Most of the dogs in the Midnight Dog Walkers’ Club are, in fact, fearful and/or anxious dogs. Both owner and dog remain hypervigilant and constantly scan their environment, ever on the lookout for that thing that causes the dog’s adrenaline and cortisol levels to spike and his heart to pound—a trigger sets off that “fight-or-flight” mechanism that all animals have. We trainers and behaviorists call that emotional state of “freaking out” in a dog “going over threshold.” The definition of “threshold” that I like best is that given by Debbie Jacobs, a trainer who specializes in working with fearful dogs, in her 2011 book, A Guide to Living With & Training a Fearful Dog: “The threshold is the point at which your dog can no longer deal with a trigger before reacting in a negative way (with fear or aggression).”

Snarling and baring teeth are among a dog’s body-language cues that signal a dog is uncomfortable with something in its environment.

Mixed Signals

I often wonder which comes first: does the dog upset the owner with an over-the-top response, causing the owner to become a leash-yanker and tense walker? Or does the owner worry about a potential explosion and yank the leash first, signaling that it’s time for the dog to go into overdrive? Either way, a feedback loop is created in which one of these two animals freaks out and the other has no ability to or knowledge of how to stop the unwanted behavior. Fear begets fear and, before you know it, the walk is an enormous trial and is ruined for both participants. Then guilt sets in for the owner because she doesn’t want to face the daily doggie gauntlet of overreactions. So, she stays home, and the dog gets bored and perhaps destructive. This is a recipe for frustration and disillusion for both species.

The author and one of her canine clients at the beginning of a training session.

If dogs could just tell us how they are feeling about things in their environment, we’d all have a much clearer understanding of what motivates these undesired behaviors. They can’t talk, so we observe their outward behavior and decide upon a course of action from there. If you aren’t well-versed in behavior-modification techniques—and those are very different from obedience commands—then you can easily become overwhelmed and frustrated with the maniac dog at the end of the leash. The one ruining your life. The one you worry about every day.

Two of Annie’s clients looking happy and relaxed during an on-leash walk. Both dogs are wearing harnesses, which trainers highly recommend to protect a dog’s vulnerable neck region.

I understand these dogs not just professionally—I also personally relate to the depth of despair humans feel when this kind of dog comes into their home because I have shared my life with a few of them. I learned what to do and what not to do as I lived with an out-of-control Rottweiler while I was a college student. That Rottweiler entered my life nearly thirty years ago. He broke my finger, gave me a concussion, bit my friends, and saved my life, twice. His name was Wylie, and even though his story is decades old, what happened to the two of us is all too common, even today. I tell you about my years with Wylie in Chapter 2.

Chapter 2

THE $12,000 ROTTWEILER: I’VE BEEN WHERE YOU ARE

In 1988, I pounced on the idea of mending my human-induced broken heart with the unconditional love of a dog. Thinking that another species can cure a broken heart puts an enormous responsibility on an animal that can’t even converse with us about the role we often prescribe for him. That year, I was a senior at the University of Texas at Austin, taking a heavy load of classes and trying to graduate while working three jobs. Getting a high-energy, intense puppy during such a busy and chaotic time in my life was just dumb—something I can say now, with close to three decades of hindsight. The pain of my parents’ divorce after an awful twenty-five-year marriage, however, coupled with my discovery that my first true love (my college boyfriend) was cheating on me with my girlfriends, pushed me into doing something big. But instead of doing something big, I got something big. Big and black and tan with long teeth.

Meet Wylie

I had always been attracted to large dog breeds, not out of a desire to “dominate” them but as a plea to have someone or something protect me from the battering that life kept giving me. Therefore, after reading one thin book on the breed, I declared myself an expert on all things Rottweiler, and I began my search to obtain one.

I contacted a breeder, who said that he had only one puppy left, which—miracle of miracles—was the pick of the litter. What luck! I originally wanted a female dog, but the breeder said such glowing things about the pick of the litter that I couldn’t get that puppy out of my mind. I saved up the $500—a huge amount of money for a college student on a tight budget.

A week before spring break, my high school friend Michelle May and I, feeling that we were oh-so-grown-up, excitedly talked over our plans to drive to get my puppy. I called the breeder to inform him that I had the money and that I had only one question for him (not about the health or temperament of the puppy’s parents because, it didn’t occur to me): where in Texas was he?

Annie when she first met Wylie in Arkansas. He was already a big boy at three months old.

“Texas? I ain’t in Texas. I’m in northwest Arkansas,” he said. In all of the phone conversations about the puppy, I’d never asked the breeder where he lived. I’d assumed that he was in Texas because the advertisement had been in a local newspaper (Google had not been invented way back then!). My dreams of the ultimate puppy started to diminish. I needed that dog—that particular bold dog—to protect me from all of the humans who had wounded me. I finally had a brilliant protection plan, and now it was ending before it started. I’d to have pass on this fantastic pick-of-the-litter puppy. I called Michelle to report the bad news, and her response lifted my spirits: “That is gonna be an extra long—and extra fun—road trip!”

Twelve hours of driving later, we made our way to the small farm where Wylie the Rottweiler, the pick of the litter, was waiting for me. The breeder and his family resided in a converted school bus. They were coming out of the bus when we were walking up, and Wylie’s sire came up to greet us. He was humongous and easily the largest dog I had ever seen. They told us that his name was Winston. I tried to quell a bit of the anxiety I felt from just looking at the size of him. Winston came right to me, jumped up, put his paws on either shoulder, and looked right into my eyes. Many other large-breed dogs do that to me—jump up and place their giant paws on my shoulders and look deep into my soul. They probably just want to get close enough to smell what I ate for lunch, but I once attributed a more romantic notion to their actions.

I told myself that Winston was checking me out to make sure that I was good enough for his son. After passing his sire’s test, the already-named Wylie sat himself at my feet. I reached down to pick him and quickly realized that it required both hands to lift him. He was three months old and weighed 30 pounds. He seemed to be a love bug, and I was smitten right away. I was actually pre-smitten with the idea of him before ever meeting him. He and Winston stayed close by me, as dogs do. We entered our own world for a brief time. The animal world has always been a safe place for me to be me.

I paid the family and loaded Wylie into the car, waving good-bye to the nice people and to Winston. I was already hoping that Wylie would grow to be as huge as his father. Michelle noticed something peculiar about Wylie at our pit stops. He had a habit of growling at other people when we had him out to do his business. The first time we heard it, the sound was so deep that we thought it was a plane passing far overheard. The second time, we both realized that the menacing sound was coming from this pick-of-the-litter puppy. I was thrilled, but I should not have been. At long last, I had myself a protector. He did defend me, many times, but he also caused a lot of collateral damage. He was the first dog that was mine from start to finish. How he survived me and how my friends survived him is anyone’s guess.

Wylie and Water

Wylie had water issues—really more of a water obsession. He didn’t just like to swim; if there was water in his vicinity, he got wet as quickly as possible, splashing around like a fool, and nothing or no one could stop him, not even a fire department. He’d splash and then bite at the splashes, and God help you if you were in the path of the splashes because he would bite you, too. He had big teeth, and they hurt. He never bit me, though, confirming to myself that I was a natural with dogs.

Once, when my Aunt Shannon was taking care of Wylie for me, she had a friend staying with her. It was a typical, unbearably hot Texas summer, so they took Wylie for a swim down in the Frio River. My aunt was telling her friend all about Wylie’s water fetish when he spied the river. He lunged, broke the collar, and took off. They ran after him and found him in the middle of the river, splashing and paddling in circles.

Top: Wylie in Arkansas at three months old. Bottom: Wylie as an adult.

“That nut!” Shannon said. “Just let him do that for awhile, and maybe we will get lucky and he’ll drown.”

“We can’t let that dog drown!” her friend exclaimed.

“Yes, we can,” my aunt answered, for she knew the depth of his water obsession, and she was weary of his ways.

Shannon’s friend didn’t know any better, and she felt sorry for Wylie. She paddled out on her inner tube to rescue him. Wylie saw her coming and made a beeline for her like a big, black-and-tan shark, circling his prey. He bit her tube and popped it. She started splashing water at him to make him go away. This was the wrong move, of course, but she had no way of knowing that.

Shannon yelled from the side of the river to quit splashing at Wylie, but her friend couldn’t hear her. Wylie bit her, naturally. “Don’t worry! He’s the pick of the litter!” my aunt yelled to her struggling friend. When her friend finally got away from the Rottweiler-turned-shark, she looked at her hands and realized that her diamond wedding ring had come off, and I had the first debt to repay, thanks to this maniac of a dog.

Sneaking Wylie into the huge horse fountain near the football stadium at UT didn’t help his water fetish. He’d push himself off its floor so hard and so many times that he ended up breaking a toenail or two. Toenails really bleed out. I usually had to pull him out with all of my might. We left a trail of toenail blood that led all the way back to the house.

My roommate, Renee, liked to take Wylie jogging with her around Town Lake (now named Lady Bird Lake), which ran through the middle of downtown Austin. We both knew that he had a water problem, but we were physically strong women and thought that we had him under control with our ingenious two-collar-and-two-leash system.

Wylie was a loyal and protective companion to Annie in spite of his issues.

One morning, Renee took Wylie to the lake for a run, and I stayed at home to catch up on schoolwork. I thought she had been gone for a long time when the phone rang.

“Your dog is a menace!” Renee shouted into the phone.

“What did he do?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to find out.

“He broke through the two leashes and two collars, and he is swimming in the middle of Town Lake. I called the fire department to come get him, but you need to get your butt down here before he drowns, or before I drown him when we finally get him!”

Renee was an even-keeled person, and for her to be that mad, Wylie must have snapped her last nerve. By this time, he was a teenager and 90 pounds of muscle. I jumped into my little red car and got to the lake in a matter of minutes.

Sure enough, there was the Austin Fire Department. And Renee. And my nutty dog, paddling and splashing at the waves he was making in the middle of Town Lake. The firefighters were all standing around, wondering who was going to go in after that dog. I was a good swimmer, but the lake was said to have an awful undertow, and it was cold. Plus, it stank. There were signs all around, warning: “Do Not Eat the Fish.” I was in the process of taking off my shoes and was going to risk the undertow to get Wylie when Renee asked, “Is that the University of Texas rowing team?”

It was the UT rowing team. One of the firefighters whistled loudly at the rowers. They looked over at us, and we all started running down the shoreline, pointing at Wylie. They kept rowing on by, so we all started screaming at them. Luckily enough, one of the rowers saw Wylie splashing around in the middle of the lake.

They stopped rowing and stared, as one unit, open-mouthed at my dog. They had a quick powwow and rowed slowly over to him. I was praying like a madwoman that he would not bite one of his potential rescuers. He must have been somewhat tired by then, so he allowed one of the rowers to remove his shirt, tie it around Wylie’s neck, and pull him to shore.

At this point, Renee broke the tension and started laughing at Wylie and probably at me, too, because I had to wade into the lake to get him from the rowers. He had to get the Austin Fire Department and the UT rowing team to work together on his behalf to save his black-and-tan rump. We all laughed then, and I was thankful that Wylie had lived through the lake adventure.

The Training Class

After that near-drowning episode, I decided belatedly to take my dog to a dog-training class. I had neglected to do that when he was a puppy because I was too busy with college and working three jobs. By this time, Wylie was two years old, weighed 95 pounds, and could pull a Mack truck. He naturally never learned to like other dogs (because I had never introduced him to any when he was a puppy), so when he saw one, he would lurch, bark, growl, and bite if he could.

I didn’t know any better, so I bought him a prong collar that was designed to pinch him in the neck if he pulled against the leash. It seemed to have no effect on him, even on that first night of class when the trainer put the most submissive dog in the middle of the rest of us to “see how our dogs would react.” I wrapped my leash around my hand and stood in a warrior stance with my weight evenly distributed because I knew what Wylie would do—and he did it. He lunged at the dog so hard that he nearly knocked me over. My stubborn streak would not allow that to happen, so I yanked and popped his leash as the thin book on how to train a Rottweiler had directed me to do. Wylie lunged again. I heard another loud “pop” (that I didn’t deliver), and I also heard the instructor screaming at me to leave the class immediately. I walked away in shame. That evening, I ended up in the ER with a swollen and badly broken pinkie finger.

Wylie and the fence he would later bulldoze down to attack a truck tire.

Wylie versus the Mailman

Wylie would give me a concussion a month later. By then, I owned a red pickup truck, and I believed myself such a diligent dog owner that I chained him into the back of the truck so that he would not fall out (today, I would never put a dog in the back of a truck, chained or not!). On this particular day, as I unhooked the chain, Wylie saw his nemesis—the mailman—across the street, and he leaped out of the truck, slamming me to the ground. I hit my head on the cement curb, and the damage was done. My long-suffering but ever-patient roommate rounded up the dog and got me inside. Her surgeon father came over (the first of many times because Wylie kept biting Renee’s family members when they dared to venture into our backyard) to check up on me.

A few months later, I finished my last college exam, and I was looking forward to going home and collapsing on the couch in exhaustion after drinking wine (I was now twenty-one) and celebrating my upcoming graduation. When I rounded the corner to our street, it took me a minute to realize that half of our 6-foot wooden fence was on the ground, and there was no Wylie in the backyard. I forgot how tired I was and ran into the house to check for him there, but he wasn’t inside.

The red light was blinking on the answering machine. A neighbor had used up all of our answering machine tape describing how Wylie had done his usual act of throwing himself on the fence as the hapless mailman walked by, but this time the fence had collapsed. The neighbor detailed the entire story: Wylie went after the mailman, who somehow made it back to the safety of his mail truck. At that moment, a loud, obnoxious small truck zoomed by, and how Wylie hated that truck. He chased it. He caught it. And then he sunk his teeth into the back tire and popped it!

The driver was understandably too concerned about the menacing Rottweiler to get out of his car, so the neighbor braved it. The driver had inadvertently rolled back onto Wylie’s foot, so he was stuck there, still attacking the dying tire on top of his enormous paw. The neighbor managed to take my dog to the vet, and I paid the big bill for his messed-up back foot, the broken fence, and the truck driver’s new tire. God knows why we kept getting mail at the house and why that mailman never turned my dog in for being vicious (rather, he was viciously untrained).

Loyal Protector

I slowly learned over the next decade to be a better dog owner, but it was purely through trial and error (many errors). I managed to keep Wylie from hurting anyone else for the rest of his years. I literally owed this dog my life because he had saved me from two certain assaults. One nearly happened on a hike west of Austin, where I would go far into the woods so I could let him run safely off leash. He rounded a corner, and, when I got to him, he was stock still and growling like I had never heard before. I snapped his leash on him, and, as I did, a strange man jogged by us. As he was passing me and my snarling dog, he said under his breath, “You are lucky you have that dog today.”