After an unfortunate run-in with my neighbor's massive shepherd nearly 20 years ago, I couldn’t even look at a dog, never mind approach one. If I so much as saw one look at me, I’d succumb to a panic attack of epic proportions and lapse into an emotional meltdown.
Generally, my reaction to dogs only further piqued their interest in me, as it’s a well-documented fact that dogs can sense fear. I don’t remember when I started to get over my canine phobia or whether it was gradual or instant. I just remember one day a few years ago, my (now ex-) boyfriend and I decided it would be a good idea for us to get a puppy (why, exactly, I can’t quite say; that’s another story entirely). And while he really wanted a shepherd, I really wanted to be able to go home without fear that my dog was going to use my leg as his chew toy, and we settled on a Labrador.
Guinness was cute, albeit slightly energetic. I spent countless hours of my day — every day — running around with him trying to expel some of his boundless energy and in the end, I only ran myself ragged. I was tired, but the exercise was working wonders for me, as I lost roughly 20 pounds chasing him in those first few months.
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| Guinness |
When my relationship didn’t work out and I was forced to relinquish custody of Guinness to my friend’s parents, I found myself actually longing to be in the company of canines. If I saw a dog in my daily travels (especially a chocolate lab), I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. I wished fervently that my landlord would allow pets at my apartment so that I could adopt a puppy, even if it couldn’t be a large-breed dog. I always loved the West Highland white terrier, yappy as it is; I could have lived with one of those, I’m sure. I even briefly considered adopting a fully-grown young adult lab under the guise that it was a medical alert dog (I know, I know, shameful, right?) but clearly I never went through with the ruse. I don’t think my landlords would have fallen for it anyway.
Around Valentines Day this year, I was at a party during which an acquaintance happened to mention she was going to be leaving for vacation in a few days with her family and that her primary dog-sitter was unable to stay with her lab. I joked that I’d love to stay with him, but it wasn’t until she called the next day to ask if I was serious that I started to doubt myself and my fear reared its ugly head.
What if he tries to eat me? I wondered. I am good with dogs that are under the control of their owners, but up to that point, with the exception of my uncle’s English Springer spaniel, I had never been with one so large on my own. I feared the worst.
I walked into the house mere hours after the family left for Florida and Smokey was waiting for me. When I saw his black body in the shadows moving toward me, I immediately felt my heart rate quicken and suppressed a flash of panic. I could tell he sensed it, but he kept all four paws on the floor. I put my hand down for him to sniff, and he turned his back, casually walking away. Success! For the next seven days, he greeted me warmly every time I walked through the door.
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| Smokey |
Shortly thereafter, another friend asked if I’d be interested in watching her lab, Barkley, while she and her family were on vacation for a week. Again, I said yes without thinking.
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| Barkley |
Since then, I’ve had the luxury of being in constant contact with canines of all sizes, from a French bulldog and Labrador retriever to not one but two German shepherds (yes, really!).
Shep (aptly named, don’t you think?) is roughly 12 weeks old now. I went with a friend to pick him up from a breeder in Greenfield when he was just 8 weeks old and fell in love with him immediately. I figured if he grew up with me, he’d be less inclined to want to hurt me. Can’t argue with that logic, right? Not so! He can sense something about me, because on at least one occasion, he’s backed me into a corner emitting low growling sounds with his puppy teeth bared. Now I know his little needle teeth can’t really do too much harm, save for a few small bruises, but this seems like ominous foreshadowing to me.
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| Shep |
His “older brother” of sorts, Tazer, is about a year and a half old and, while exuberant, one of the nicest dogs I think I’ve ever met. If all my interactions with shepherds were as positive as the times I’ve spent in Tazer’s presence, I wouldn’t be in the least bit apprehensive. Ever.
I’ve been giving this a lot of thought lately because another friend asked me recently if I’d be interested in dog sitting for his shepherd. I don’t want to discriminate against him simply because of the dog's breed (and the fact that he’s large and understands German, which I do not), so I figure I’ll agree – at least tentatively, pending a meeting with him. I trust he’s a well-behaved animal, but I’m still not sure I can trust myself to fully mask the residual fear. Will he sense it? What if he tries to eat me?
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