Courtesy vs Responsibility

come and take a ramble with me

This one is a bit off the cuff for me.

I’ve talked many times here on the blog about how it’s our responsibility to keep our dogs safe. And the bottom line is, it is. But for those of us who are the guardians of reactive dogs, it can be very challenging. Sometimes, overwhelmingly so.

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Backstory

I’ve lived in West Texas for the last 16.5 years. I’ve never lived anywhere quite like it. The landscape is uniquely beautiful. It’s dry. It’s sparse. And it’s harsh in more ways than one.

The stray dog population down here is out of hand. It has been for years. People adopt dogs, then for reasons known and unknown fail to keep them contained, cared for, and safe. There is an issue of resources, for sure. Some folks can’t afford basic vet care, spay and neuter, vaccines, fence repairs, yard work, dog trainers, training tools, etc. This is sometimes less a reflection of their love for their dogs than it is a symptom of deeper societal issues. My own likely unpopular opinion is that poverty should not preclude someone from having a canine companion. For some people, having that dog is a matter of life and death; and some of the most loved dogs I’ve seen belong to homeless people and people with little to no resources.

But I’ve also seen what happens when people who have resources simply don’t make their dog a priority in their life decisions. For example: it is common for university students here to graduate and move, and literally leave dogs behind in their rental houses and yards. Dogs are dumped. Everywhere. Puppies are taped shut in cardboard boxes and thrown into dumpsters. It’s a terrible situation, and I know that this region is not the only place experiencing these issues. The southern states in general are really struggling. Indigenous nations in the west are really struggling. But so are states in the midwest and around the country. Shelters are full to the max, making room as they can for emergency cases and desperately trying to find good people to adopt frightened and sometimes behaviorally challenged dogs with histories that would cause any normal human being to develop PTSD.

People see a loose dog in their neighborhood and don’t know what to do anymore. Call a shelter to be told there’s no room? Call local animal services and risk the dog being euthanized? Or leave them to roam the busy streets to fend for themselves?

Then there’s the issue of dangerous dogs on the streets and in busy neighborhoods. A few years ago, one of my neighbors was walking his little dog down the sidewalk, on leash, when the little dog was attacked by a larger loose dog. His little dog was killed, and he was badly injured trying to stop the attack. Another man was attacked and killed by a stray dog in a park. There are other similar stories, here and elsewhere.

I stopped walking Japhy and Hazel in my neighborhood years before moving into the van, because so many dog owners were nonchalantly walking their dogs off-leash, the dog sometimes at least 25 feet in front of them. It would have been irresponsible for me to walk Japhy in such a space, so I drove my dogs outside of town and let them run off-leash on the dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. That was my responsibility, to react appropriately to the situation, even if it was not fair to me and my dogs.

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We humans have created a rather dark underbelly of the canine world through our collective disregard for the lives of these creatures and others who love them. We selfishly breed them and buy them, then discard them when they no longer serve our interests.

When I moved to Lubbock back in 2007, my landlord warned me to keep a careful watch on my dog or it would be stolen and used in the underground dog fighting ring that was, allegedly, highly active here. That has stuck with me every moment of the 16.5 years I’ve been here since.

A few years ago a man approached my door from the street. He was drawn by Japhy’s protective barking, and he proceeded to further provoke him through the French door windows. I quickly walked to the door and motioned and shouted for the man to move on. He asked if he could speak to me about my dog. I told him to walk out to the road and wait for me to come out. When I met him out by the road, he told me that he was walking around the neighborhood looking for dogs to potentially breed with his dog. He was from Dallas, five hours away. I told him that my dog was ‘fixed’ and that I wouldn’t be interested anyway. After he finished what seemed like an utterly b.s. spiel, he finally moved on down the road. My immediate thought/concern was that he was looking for dogs to fight. Obviously that’s speculation; nonetheless, the situation was highly suspect.

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The Point

I’m not sure what the point of me sharing these stories is. I have many more I could share but typically choose not to in this space. I don’t like to blog about speculations and issues I don’t fully comprehend. I don’t like to play the blame game, and I don’t claim to know the answers, other than all responsible dog guardians need to keep doing our very best to care for and and keep our own dogs safe. Sometimes when there isn’t a clear path to a solution, the only recourse is to simply be a better person ourselves. In this light, I strive to be a better dog guardian by doing whatever I can to keep my own dogs safe and to set them up for success, to keep learning, to keep an open mind, to advocate, to educate, to help others when and where I’m able.

All of that said, I read the comments. I know you’re not supposed to, but I do. I know that sometimes attempting to educate just isn’t an effective path. There’s too much finger pointing and angry ranting online, where what we say seemingly doesn’t matter anymore, and we fail to take all of the nuance of canine (and human) behavior into account when we start flinging hurtful words at each other. Then of course there are the trolls, who purposefully incite anger within the community. Dog trainers at each others’ throats about training methods and tools and proper food. People who feel entitled to let their “friendly” dogs do whatever they wish wherever they wish and if yours is reactive, that’s your problem. You should just keep it locked up inside, or hey, better yet, just euthanize it. The trolls thrive on chaos and confusion, bullying and a false sense of power. They live to provoke. It’s best not to engage. Throughout my online presence, I’ve made the decision to simply delete all comments that I believe come from this energy. Life is too short. We choose our battles carefully.

However, last week when I was walking the dogs on-leash around a park, and a man came around the corner with an off-leash dog, I lost my cool. I ran Japhy and Hazel back to the van and closed and locked the door behind us. A few short seconds later, the man’s off-leash dog was right by the van, peeing on the tire. Japhy went ballistic. I screamed through the van window, “Come and get your fucking dog!” as I was restraining Japhy, who was basically attacking the window beneath which the off-leash dog sniffed with curiosity. It wasn’t the dog’s fault.

When the dog’s owner turned and made eye contact with me only to immediately turn his back and walk away, I jumped in the driver’s seat, turned on the van, and peeled out of the parking lot. When I looked in the rearview mirror, the off-leash dog was still standing right where we had been parked, looking around as if nothing had happened. The dog’s owner? About twenty yards away, still walking the opposite direction. The kicker to this story? There was an actual off-leash dog park less than half a block away. He was not in it.

I’m not proud of my reaction to this experience. But I have a breaking point, as do we all. I try so hard to keep my reactive dog safe, which is to say that I am also working hard to keep other dogs safe. I follow the rules. I know exactly what Japhy needs. I do everything to set him up for success, including growing eyes in the back of my fucking head to watch for irresponsible dog owners or loose dogs who are the result of the same. It’s exhausting. And frankly, I could use some help.

It used to be called “common courtesy.” I think, though, it’s always been mislabeled. It’s actually responsibility. And perhaps a good bit of integrity as well. When I talk on this blog about our dogs being our responsibility, I mean it collectively as well as individually. When we take responsibility for our own dogs, we also take responsibility for the collective canine community and what we represent.

Why wouldn’t we want to leash our dogs if it helps someone else’s reactive dog not react—if it allows them to be outside and live an otherwise normal and fulfilled life? What if you refusing to leash your “friendly” dog in a leash-required area is preventing someone else from giving their reactive dog a daily walk around the neighborhood? Why wouldn’t you care about that? Why wouldn’t you want someone who is terrified of dogs to feel safe walking around a public park—a park that is intended to be used by all, with certain rules that are in place for the very purpose of keeping everyone safe? This is not common courtesy. This is responsibility to our community… to our people. Do we really not care about anyone else anymore?

Yes, of course I know that not everyone does care. We don’t all live by the same sense of responsibility and love and commitment to others with whom we share this world. But if my rambling can spark more awareness in even just one thoughtful individual out there, it will have been worth the time and energy it took to write.

Be good to people. And their dogs.

I promise to do better myself, for these two especially, but for all dogs and for all humans who may be facing unspeakable challenges that nobody else knows about.

Bottom line: it is my responsibility to keep my dogs safe. And to the best of my ability, yours too. But I could use a little help.

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“There are love dogs no one knows the names of. Give your life to be one of them.” (Rumi)

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