On the lovely upside note, I have also attended services with animal blessings. It is always a joy – lots of giggles. Most pets are such a pleasure. Ken and I have just had bad encounters.

We had a blessing of the animals service at our church today and there were probably 40 dogs there (also a few cats, a ferret, a rabbit, a fish) and they were all incredibly well behaved. What a fabulous way to spend a Sunday morning service!

It took me the necessity of two similar incidents to realize I couldn’t walk my dog in public. I understand that most trainers of show dogs will never take them on a public walk, specifically because of the risk their future prize winner will learn other dogs’ aggressiveness and become unfriendly themselves toward other dogs when they’re in the show ring.

None of the aggressive dogs in the incident I wrote of above were of the breeds often mentioned in news items as being ‘dangerous breeds,’ nor were they in similar incidents. The attitude human owners of ‘out-of-control’ dogs often take seems patterned and is invariably that it wasn’t their lack-of-control over their animal that was at fault.

It’s quite a denial mechanism. Perhaps, however, it’s a projection mechanism: its easy to look at a Rottweiler (or a German Shepherd) and blame that dog for any aggression, even when its leashed and under control.

Who knows what they tell their friends!

“Sweet little Fido was playing with a bone in the yard, minding his own business, when this leashed Rottweiler and its scoundrel owner dared to walk up our street. I was munching on a sandwich while watching TV, Fido was in my view the whole time through the screen door. When Fido saw them, he ran out to greet, tail wagging the whole time—he was just being friendly. The next thing I knew, I heard the great beast Rottweiler, it sounded like it was going to kill poor, sweet Fido. Then the nincompoop owner started screaming and yelling. I actually had to get up from eating my lunch, it was such a bother—I missed the end of my favorite TV soap opera. What’s wrong with people these days?”

We were living on the coast then. I loved taking Jessie on walks – I could have used a fur boa for a leash and she would have still yanked and choked for all the anticipation of a good trot and lots of bushes to sniff. We were barely beyond our property line when my neighbor pulled up in her SUV. Everything in her life was big – especially her dog. He was an unusual breed of German Shepherd – not the airport security type – bigger with long hair. It was bred to perfection – perfect genes – and was a perfectly high strung killing machine that indiscriminately hated all dogs. No accident, his name was Tonka – built like a truck. (I should add that I grew up with German Shepherds and think they are fine dogs.)

My neighbor was returning from the groomer with her perfectly coifed dog. She let him jump from the car with no tether. She didn’t see Jessie and me, but Tonka didn’t hesitate. It was weird. Everything happened in slo-mo. Tonka took huge galloping leaps with obvious intent to tear Jessie from stem to stern. The guaranteed feeling of doom was surreal because the attack was inevitable and we were so vulnerable. I started yelling – the distance Tonka had to cover before pouncing was a mere 25 yards or so. I do know that both Jessie and I hunkered down, prepared to protect each other – we both saw the imminent danger. Thank goodness my neighbor was right there, but Tonka did not respond to her voice commands. She had to run to our rescue and pull Tonka off. I was livid – very shaken. I hobbled inside with clothing torn, blood pouring down my leg. After I had a few moments to collect my thoughts, I called to inquire if Tonka was vaccinated for rabies etc. Of course he wasn’t. My neighbor was extremely contrite and I was quick to forgive – but it was a rattling experience I will never forget.

As a result of this episode, Jessie doesn’t cozy up to other dogs – in fact she is downright unfriendly. I sought a trainer to try to remedy this. I found one in the yellow pages – he was excellent. When we engaged his services we did not realize he was the trainer that worked with Nicole Simpson’s dog after her murder – you can imagine the issues that dog had! But it is unfortunate that the experience seemed to change Jessie forever. But we gained a heightened sense of loyalty to each other.

***

I was walking my dog on a public street, leashed with the GentleLeader® harness. We were just enjoying the day, trying to get a little exercise, when suddenly, a large dog from the front yard across the street from our position jumped up, barked, and started across the street toward us, its tail not wagging.

I shortened the slack of my dog’s leash and pulled on it to turn his head in the direction we were headed, sped up my pace a little, and said, “Heel.”

The unrestrained dog kept approaching, even more quickly. It barked once again. Two other dogs joined the first one, from which direction they came, I either didn’t see or no longer remember.

I stopped. I noted that one of the dogs was smaller, but two of them were at least 80 pounds. I kept a firm grip on my dog’s leash, but granted him the full length of slack available. Lots of unfriendly sounds and growls were exchanged. The three snarling dogs began circling us.

“Go away. Go home. Go away,” I commanded loudly to no avail. They continued to circle us—we who had trespassed on their public street territory.

Fortunately, a person from the house across the street came out from her front door, and yelled something. She walked to the edge of her front yard, the yard the first dog had come from, and stared at the ugly scene. I yelled to her to call the dogs off. She refused to say a word to me, she stared with wide-open eyes and a scowl on her face.

The aggressive dogs kept circling us, but one looked toward the house when the human sounded out something I didn’t understand followed by, “Come.”

One of the dogs stopped circling us, stood still, then looked back and forth between the woman across the street and us. She continued to call to her dog.

My dog was upset and so was I.

She called to them again, this time with a sharper and louder tone in her voice, “Come here.” Finally, her dog obeyed, it was the one who first approached us. It slowly crossed the street back to its house. The other dogs remained. With the first dog’s interest having waned, they backed off a little. My dog continued snarling. Time seemed to stand still, but eventually, the other dogs turned and ran away.

The human, still in her yard, had grabbed the first dog by its collar. She continued to stare at us.

I barked out, “Keep your dogs under control.”

She never spoke once to, or answered me, directly. She continued to stare with wide-open eyes and a firm, unfriendly set to her face.

I felt she considered us the problem. I started walking again, and pulled my dog’s attention away from the scene. I shortened the leash considerably. I noticed my heart was beating fast and hard, my breath shallow and quick, my skin tingled and felt flushed.

***

My licensed dog and I were walking on the public street, enjoying the day. I don’t know what would have happened had the unrestrained dog’s owner not been home, or refused to call off her dog. Thankfully she did.

Now that I have written this out, I understand why the human was unfriendly toward me. Instead of thanking her for having called her trained dog off, I told her to keep them under control. Sarcastically: It was my fault for having walked my leashed dog on that public street.

The day I drove up the driveway of the local animal shelter, I spotted Jessie walking with a volunteer. I knew instantly she was the dog I wanted. A thorough background check on me took over a week. During that time I visited Jessie every day – crawled into her large cage to sit and visit and brush her. Once I passed inspection, I brought her home. Her papers listed her as a cocker spaniel and her name was Gertie. Trust me, there could not possibly be even a molecule of cocker in her bloodline. She’s strictly mutt – a combination of colors and bone structure that defy speculation. We quickly ditched the Gertie name.

At the time we lived on the coast with a very, very small yard. Jessie was quite prissy in those days – she loathed the touch of grass so much, we put stepping stones down so she could do her duty in the yard. Despite our abundant love, she ran away several times. I think she had trust issues. It’s a miracle she even survived the system because she had been in so many shelters.

We now live in a home with an acre of land. The first month we lived here, she wouldn’t come indoors. When she wasn’t sleeping on a bench in the backyard where we finally put her bed, she spent endless hours exploring. She still looks so regal when she sits on her bench and scouts her kingdom. We moved here during the rainy season, but that didn’t deter her. Overnight she became our little tomboy – sloshing through our overgrown yard – the days of stepping stones forgotten.

Jessie has mellowed. She doesn’t dart anymore. Doesn’t pitch fits anymore. She asks so little of us, gives so much. She’s overprotective of me ever since she had to defend me from an attack by a HUGE dog. Jessie weighs 30 pounds. I think the attacking dog weighed 2 tons. Rarely is she silly. Though she has such an engaging mutt look, she’s all business, doesn’t miss a thing. We give her lots of fresh water. We scratch her chin, rump, belly, and that sweet behind-the-ears place. We love our Jessie.

As you may be able to tell from the dearth of reviews here lately, I’ve been lax in reading much new fiction recently. I haven’t yet had the pleasure of reading Six for Gold.

One of my Beardies always gave me the impression that he thought I was kindly but dumb: “I’ve learned all these English words, and in all the time we;ve been together, you’ve never picked up a single word of dog!”

BTW, what did you think of Six for Gold?