When a dog is loud but harmless we’re told that his bark is worse than his bite. But when there’s no one there to give that reassurance, it becomes necessary to rely on one’s wits and faith in canine-kind.
Behind door number 20, I’ll try a little tenderness.
December 20, 2024
I’m an extrovert. I’m wicked friendly. Generally, I meet people with the presumption that I’ll like them. I leave it up to them to prove me wrong. The same goes for animals. I can count on one hand the number of people, and one horse, that I’ve met and truly don’t like. Recently, I came close to adding the first dog to that list.
It happened during a routine stop for refreshment at my local convenience store. Little did I know there was a large dog waiting in the SUV next to me. Due to the tint on the windows, I wasn’t aware he was in there until I got out of my car and stood next to his door. The window was open just enough for him to stick his giant head out when I appeared in front of it. He barked directly into my face with the ferocity and breath of a hellhound.
Fortunately, I grew up with older brothers who dulled my reflex to flinch decades ago. And as a native Bostonian, I also live in constant readiness to launch a quick retort. While this beast of a dog barked inches from my face, I was grateful for the strength of tempered glass and all three of my brothers. No sooner had my new canine acquaintance started his aggressive greeting, I took a quick breath and, in my sweetest voice, asked, “Who’s a good boy? I think it’s you, Cujo! Yes, I do!”
As if my words flicked a switch, the dog morphed from a homicidal maniac to a drooling, affectionate puppy who wanted to give me kisses. We’d only just met, and I still had some trust issues, so I declined. I did, however, go into the store to get my diet cola with a shot of vanilla from the soda fountain. At the register I added an unscheduled chocolate chip whoopie pie. I earned those calories.
When I tell people this story, they immediately remind me how lucky I was not to get hurt. I recognize that, but that’s where my faith in man’s best friend comes into play. Good dogs go for rides in the car with their human pals. For all I know my pulling up next to him and shutting my car door woke him from a nap on the backseat. I’m not at my best when I just wake up, so I’m willing to cut Fido a little slack. The way he melted when I told him he was a good boy tells me that his human also thinks so and tells him with enough frequency that he appreciates being acknowledged as such. But I will still write a thank you note to the manufacturers of tempered glass.
When I went back out to the parking lot, the SUV and the dog were gone. I never did see who he belonged to. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he drove himself there. Maybe he tells this story from his perspective and his dog buddies congratulate him for protecting his car so well that a stranger praised him. I also imagine there’s a cat in the background rolling her eyes.
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