Must'nt Love Dogs

I had some difficulty fine-tuning the title of today’s post.  While I’ve never seen the movie Must Love Dogs, I am aware of its existence, and wanted to play off of its title for this.  (I consider myself a big fan of John Cusack, which is kind of strange since I’ve probably seen less then half of the man’s films.) 

My first attempt at the title was “Must Hate Dogs”.  But I realized right away that was the wrong way to go.  Not only was that title guaranteed to alienate certain people, but it didn’t accurately reflect the point I would be trying to make.  What I feel for dogs isn’t exactly hatred. 

So I changed it to “Must Fear Dogs”.  Fear was closer, but still not quite right. 

In the end (as I’m sure you’ve already noticed) I realized that it wasn’t the middle word that needed changing from the original, but the first.  In this context, the opposite of love isn’t hate or fear, but a state of ‘not-love’.  Giving us “Mustn’t Love Dogs”.  It still doesn’t feel like exactly what I was going for, but I settled for it being close enough. 

Dogs Don’t Like Me

One of the popular pastimes at my high school was injecting movie quotes into your conversation.  Two of the most quotable movies in our collective repertoire were Sixteen Candles and RoboCop.  Which is why to this day I have phrases from both of those films burned into my brain.  Especially RoboCop.  I will still occasionally find myself yelling “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII like it!” or remarking, “I’d buy that for a dollar!”

Anyway… there’s a point in the movie where crime lord Clarence Boddicker, about to kill the pre-cyborg Officer Murphy, explains that “Cops don’t like me, so I don’t like cops.”  I bring that up because that’s the basic situation with me and dogs.  Dogs don’t like me.  So, I. Don’t. Like. Dogs. 

How do I know that dogs don’t like me?  Well, you get attacked often enough, and you start to get the message. 

But they’re the ones who started it.  I didn’t seek out a lifelong feud with dogs.  Hell, when I was a child, I still wanted to have a dog as a pet even after the first few attacks.  And even though I was allergic.  I liked dogs at that point in my life.  But dogs would eventually manage to change my mind about that. 

When someone tells you to picture a dog, you probably imagine something soft and cuddly and adorable.  When someone tells me to picture a dog, what pops into my head is an image like this: 

Image cropped from a photo by Nick Bolton on Unsplash.com

Attacked By Dogs

The first time I was ever mauled by a dog I was only 4 years old. 

I honestly don’t know if I remember it or not.  I do have memories from when I was a very young child of being attacked by a dog, but according to my parents, that could have been any one of several different occasions. 

I have been attacked by a lot of dogs in my life.  Growled at, menacingly barked at, lunged at by tethered dogs, chased, knocked down, bitten… and always unprovoked. 

I don’t antagonize dogs.  I’m not mean to them.  If anything I go out of my way to avoid them.  I’ve never abused a dog.  The rare physical action I’ve taken towards a dog has been in self-defense.  But for some reason, I tend to be the one that they go after. 

I’ll tell you a couple of stories. 

Mom used to be an Avon lady.  I think I was probably about 7^th or 8^th grade when she threw her back out and was basically bedbound for a week or two.  So I ended up delivering all of the Avon orders to her customers.  One of which was this little old lady with a tiny little yappy furry thing that bounced around her house barking. 

I’m sure you already know where this is going.  The thing jumped up and sank its teeth into my leg.  Bit through the thick denim I was wearing and still broke the skin underneath.  The little old lady witnessed the attack, and I honestly thought she was going to have some sort of medical episode having done so.  She quickly found herself a seat and started stuttering out overlapping apologies.  “I’m so sorry— I can’t believe—  My dog’s never—  Are you okay—  How could she have—” and so on and so forth. 

I think that was the first time that I was given that kind of speech, but it certainly wasn’t the last.  I’ve had quite a few dog-owners tell me that they can’t believe this just happened, that their dog doesn’t have a violent bone in its body, has never ever bitten anybody before, hardly ever even growls let alone attacks and so on while I stand there bleeding. 

There was one time when I was walking down the sidewalk in Oregon City, heading for a bus stop.  I was aware of the dog up ahead of me, because I tend to notice where dogs are.  But I assumed that if any dog was going to be relatively safe to pass, it would be this one. 

I mean, what are the chances that I’d be attacked by a seeing eye dog?  Those dogs are heavily trained, and any sign of violence gets them disqualified from continuing in the guide dog program.  So, imagine my surprise as I passed it by… and it suddenly lunged for me, growling and snapping its jaws. 

The poor blind guy certainly wasn’t expecting it either, as he dropped his grip on the dog’s harness.  Fortunately for me, someone else realized what was going on, and grabbed ahold before the dog could connect with me.  “What the Hell, man?!”  The guy holding the dog was, of course, looking at me accusingly.  Like I’d done something to the dog besides simply dare to walk past it. 

I told the guy not to worry about it as I picked up my pace.  “Dogs just don’t like me.”  I wanted to get out of that situation fast.  I don’t know if having your guide dog attack someone gets it taken away from you or not, but I wasn’t going to risk doing that to some blind guy who didn’t ask for that situation any more than I had. 

There was one attack that I don’t necessarily place all of the blame on the dog for.  And that was when I was playing D&D at a friend’s house, and at one point when I was momentarily alone in the room I had a seizure.  Hit the ground and started flopping around like a fish.  Which apparently spooked the dog, who came in and decided that I needed to be bitten.  Fortunately, I was apparently twitching too hard for the dog to land the bite, and he only got as far as getting my pant leg into his maw.  People came back into the room to investigate the noise, and immediately separated the dog from me, and did the standard, “Oh crap, Mike’s seizing again” routine.  (There will eventually be a blog post on The Seizure Years.) 

My Dad had a story about him being attacked by a dog that he liked to tell.  Dad was leaning up against the side of his pickup in the driveway of a friend’s house, when all of a sudden this dog runs up, bites him on the lower leg, and then runs back in the direction he came from. 

A few minutes later, this angry woman comes over, yelling at Dad.  “What did you hit my dog with?!”  Dad tells her, “I didn’t hit your dog.  Your dog bit my leg.” 

“And so you hit him?  In the face?”

“No,” Dad once again told her.  “Your dog bit me in the leg.  I didn’t do anything to your dog.” 

Then she started getting seriously angry.  “I know you hit my dog with something!  Whatever it was you hit him with chipped his tooth!” 

So Dad calmly explained to the lady once more that the dog bit Dad’s leg, and that Dad didn’t retaliate in any way.  But this time, Dad also pulled up his pants leg to show her where the dog bite happened.  Pointed right at the titanium block in the middle of his prosthetic leg.  “He bit me right there.”

As far as I know, that was Dad’s only time being ‘bitten’ by a dog. 

I have a niece whose ear was torn nearly off by a dog when she was very young.  (Not some strange random dog out in the world, but her grandparent’s dog.)  Her parents took her to the ER and got it sewn back on, and there was no permanent damage done.  She was apparently too young to remember the incident, because she’s a dog person today. 

It’s not just me.  Not just me and my niece (or my Dad).  According to the CDC, it’s upwards of 4.5 million people per year in the US alone that get bitten by dogs. 

Cynophobia

Because of my history with them, I am understandably scared of dogs.  I mean, of course I am.  Who wouldn’t be in my position? 

But it’s a somewhat controllable fear.  I can be in the presence of a dog without having to run away.  I don’t like being near a dog, but I can do it.  (I just can’t help wondering, ‘Okay, when is it going to attack me?’) 

And it’s a reasonable fear, given everything I’ve gone through.  Seeing a dog puts me on edge.  Nearby barking unnerves me.  I have recurring nightmares about being attacked by dogs. 

Fortunately for me, I don’t have cynophobia.  Which, despite simply meaning “fear of dogs” is actually a clinical diagnosis for one of the phobias listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. (More commonly simply referred to as the DSM-V.)  For the life of me I don’t understand why I don’t have cynophobia, but I don’t.

Cynophobia is defined as an extreme irrational, uncontrollable, and overwhelming fear of dogs.  When a cynophobic is around a dog (or sees one on television, or is sometimes just thinking about a dog) they can have difficulty breathing, their heart rate speeds up, they can get chest pains, shaking/trembling, dizziness/lightheadedness, difficulty swallowing or choking, upset stomach, vomiting, diarrhea, hot or cold flashes, and/or start sweating profusely.  And that list is just the possible physical symptoms. 

Emotional symptoms include panic attacks, an intense need to escape the situation, feeling detached from oneself, feeling a loss of control, feeling like you’re going to pass out (or die), feeling powerless over your fear, feelings of dread and/or catastrophic thoughts, and other fun stuff like that. 

Cynophobics will go out of their way to avoid dogs (which seems rational to me, I do that too), and in severe cases never leave their home because they might encounter a dog. 

People at increased risk of developing cynophobia include people with depression, generalized anxiety disorder, history of mental illness, obsessive-compulsive disorder, panic attacks, other phobias (or a family history of phobias), substance abuse disorder, and of course, people who have had a frightening encounter with a dog.  Not necessarily having been actually bitten, but being chased or even threatened.  Sometimes cynophobia develops as a component of post-traumatic stress disorder. 

It’s estimated that 1 in 20 people suffer from cynophobia.  1 in 20.  That’s 5% of the population.  16.6 million people here in America alone. 

I tried to find out how many dogs were in America, but my good close personal friend the Internet wasn’t able to provide me with an accurate number.  There are currently 89.7 million dogs in America that are classified as pets.  (Nearly six times the cynophobic human population.)

But I wasn’t able to find any consistent stats on how many strays are roaming the streets of our country.  I know it’s a lot—I’ve seen the stat that animal shelters euthanize an estimated 5500 dogs per day.  And there are a lot more stray animals running around free than there are in the shelters. 

Add to that the fact that stray animals aren’t usually spayed or neutered, and one female dog can give birth to between 12 and 18 puppies per year, and… well, it doesn’t look good for the cynophobics.  It seems like the only place that’s really safe for them is their closed and locked dog-free home after all.  (God only knows where the homeless cynophobic population hides.) 

Allergies

As I mentioned earlier, I’m allergic to dogs.  (Allergic to a lot of animals, actually.  Cats, rabbits, horses, etc.)  But it’s the kind of allergic that fills my entire head with mucus, makes it difficult-but-not-impossible to breathe, covers me with hives, and so on. 

Fortunately I’m not the type of allergic which triggers an anaphylactic response.  It’s not a carry-an-epi-pen-everywhere-or-risk-death type of allergy. 

Unfortunately, there are plenty of other people who risk an anaphylactic episode when encountering a dog.  I swear, if I’m ever put into a position of power I’ll be very tempted to mandate that all dog owners purchase and carry epi-pens in case their dog causes somebody a serious allergy attack. 

It's estimated that between 15 and 30% of Americans are allergic to either dogs or cats.  I couldn’t find stats online that discuss severity. 

Dog Owners

Nowhere in the Constitution or Bill of Rights does it mention you having the right to own a dog.  That’s because you don’t.  Dog ownership is not a right. 

In fact, the American Veterinary Medical Association (which rightly states that owning a pet is a privilege and a responsibility) has a list of fifteen guidelines for responsible pet ownership on their website. 

Two of the items on that list are: 

   “Socialization and appropriate training for your pet(s) to facilitate their well-being and the well being of other animals and people.”

and

    “Preventing your pet(s) from negatively impacting other people, animals, and the environment. This includes proper waste disposal, noise control, and not allowing pet(s) to stray or become feral.” 

As I said earlier: I don’t like dogs.  But I also lack a particular fondness for a lot of dog owners.  Not all dog owners.  Some of them treat dog ownership as a privilege and take the responsibility that they’ve been given. 

But the other dog owners… they are definitely problematic.  The owners who completely ignore the guideline about socialization and training for their dog.  They decide to get a dog, and then get a dog.  End of story.  And if the dog attacks someone, be it another animal or a human, well, so what? 

My apartment is constantly surrounded by barking.  The nearest source of barking is very, very close.  I don’t think it’s the apartment next to me, but maybe the house backed up against this building on the next street.  My theory is that whoever lives there either works nights, or is simply gone all night every night.  Why else would that dog be barking all night every night?  Someone apparently isn’t following the guidelines about noise control. 

Kid wants a dog for Christmas.  Okay, what do I care?  I’ll get the kid a dog. 

I don’t really want a dog, but it’ll be worth having just to piss off the neighbors.  God, I hate my neighbors. 

Don’t want an indoor dog.  Sure, I don’t have a fenced in yard or anything, but it’ll be fine chained to that tree year round. 

People will get a dog on a whim, and just ignore all of the consequences that come with it.  And on the occasion that they realize they made a mistake… don’t want to deal with the drool and slobber, didn’t realize that a dog really will eat your furniture, had no idea that the vet bills would be that high, or whatever the situation is, the solution?  Drop it off at the pound.  Or, just drop it off… somewhere, far away. 

I seriously believe that people should have to go through training before they are allowed to get a dog.  Not that this plan is very workable, as it would probably just lead to a lot of illegal dog ownerships.  But still… I’d like to see an effort being made in that direction. 

Leash Laws

I’ve got a friend (okay, more like a friend of a friend) who brags about not ever putting his dog on a leash because it’s so well trained.  (First of all, I’ve heard stories about the dog, and no, it’s not.) 

But there are a couple of points for me to cover here.  First of all, if there are leash laws, and you don’t follow them, then you’re breaking the law.  You’re a criminal.  And your dog is, at the very least, a nuisance. 

I used to walk about a mile every morning.  (This was a long time, a lot of pounds, and an abundance of knee cartilage ago.)  And I never once encountered a dog being walked that didn’t go up to and at least sniff if not lick everyone it passed by.  These dogs had to be guided (or yanked) by the leash back into line, having their name said to help get their attention. 

There were also, of course, the occasional unleashed dogs.  I usually ended up coming to a complete stop and standing perfectly still until the jogger or walker or whoever guided his dog along past me. 

And now I find myself wondering, what happens if your unleashed dog goes up to sniff/lick/jump up on someone with cynophobia?  Or anaphylaxis-class allergies?  Or even just someone who genuinely hates dogs and is already having a bad day, and decides to take it out on your pet? 

I guess my point here is: If you’re going to take your dog out into the world where other humans are, put your dog on a damn leash! 

Racist Dogs

There was a period of a couple of weeks where Dad had agreed to look after a friend’s dog.  This was when I was in my early teens.  It was chained to a tree next to our house.  It seemed friendly.  Other people (not me) would go up to it and pet it and whatnot.  With one exception. 

I had this friend who lived a short walk from my house, and whenever he'd come over he’d try to interact with the dog, but the dog would go absolutely apeshit.  Barking, growling, snarling, trying to get off the chain to go for my friend’s throat.  This happened a couple of times and then my friend just gave up and ignored the dog. 

I mentioned this to Dad one night, and he thought that was really weird behavior.  Now, the thing about my friend is that he looks 100% Caucasian, but was actually half-Latino.  Later on that evening, I referenced my friend by his full name, and Dad said, “Wait, (friend’s first name)’s last name is (Latino-sounding surname)?  Well that explains it.”

“Explains what?” I asked. 

“Oh, that dog has been trained to attack Mexicans.”  Dad said this matter-of-factly and then went about his business like this was no big deal. 

Dad had some weird friends. 

But it turns out that you can train dogs to do all kinds of things.  Herd livestock.  Guide the blind.  Sit up, roll over, play dead, fetch.  Attack minorities.  You know, the usual. 

I really wish that was all I had to say on the subject of racist dogs.  Sadly, it isn’t. 

There have been recent studies done that have revealed what I consider an alarming link between certain dogs and their owners/handlers.  In an abundant number of cases where police dogs have attacked and bitten minorities, their handlers have turned out to be racist cops. 

Were these cops training the dogs to attack minorities?  Nope.  The dogs simply learned from the cops’ general behavior that minorities were to be attacked. 

I had an interesting discussion with a medical professional recently about dogs.  It turns out that you can entertain a cat with a television, but not a dog.  Why?  Because the way television operates is to show you somewhere between 24 and 30 frames per second, which your brain interprets as a flowing moving picture.  But that movement is too slow for dogs to follow. 

Think about that for a moment.  For a dog to watch television, you would have to show a larger number of frames per second.  Which means that a dog’s vision (for want of better terminology here) runs incredibly fast. 

This means that dogs are incredibly good at reading a human’s micro-expressions.  And once a dog decodes what all of your micro-expressions mean, it can understand your thought process because it can read it on your face. 

So, if said dog spends day in and day out with a racist cop… it becomes a racist dog.  I’m starting to think that we should institute background checks before allowing dog ownership. 

Well You Must Just Be a Horrible Person Then

Okay, wrapping this up now. 

I once had someone ask me why I didn’t like dogs.  So I explained to her my history of being attacked by dogs.  And after explaining that to her, she told me, “Well, you must just be a horrible person then,” and then got up, left, and never spoke to me again. 

Apparently since dogs don’t like me, I’m a horrible person.  Who knew? 

That wasn’t an isolated incident, either.  It’s an attitude that I’ve come up against many times now.  People telling me that they wouldn’t ever trust anybody that didn’t love dogs.  That you can tell whether a man is good or bad based on how much he loves dogs.  I’ve even had people seriously tell me that people that don’t love dogs should be locked up, because they’re obviously mentally disturbed. 

What the Hell?!?

I will now sit here in my dog-free apartment and pet my stuffed walrus Cyrus, because I’m pretty sure that he isn’t about to bite me.