dog – Page 4 – The View from a Drawbridge

Accepting the Things I Cannot Change

I think my dog is dying. I feel so helpless. All I can do is fidget and pace, and that changes nothing. This morning I cuddled him and said, “There are tears in my future.” I take him to the vet this afternoon. I suspect it won’t go well.

One of the downsides to owning a pet is the difference in life spans. Even if, by some miracle, there’s an easy fix for my dog’s situation, there will be tears in my future. Unless I get hit by a crosstown bus, I’m going to outlive him, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

Discussing this with a friend, she reminded me of the Serenity Prayer.

Serenity

This is sage advice. There really is no point in getting worked up about the things I cannot change. But dammit, no, I don’t accept this. I just don’t. So I guess I have the “courage” and “wisdom” parts down, but Serenity… ah, Serenity… she eludes me.

My kitchen smells like onions and garlic. There are all kinds of cleaning products out there that would remove that smell or at the very least mask it. But I happen to like that smell, and I live alone. Case closed.

My house in general probably smells doggy. Which is embarrassing when I have visitors, but when I’m alone I really don’t smell it. And if I did, I’d just go into the kitchen and fry up some onions.

I’m not an unsanitary person, but my house definitely smells lived in. And I’m not sure how some odors became superior to others. I mean, some aromas are definite red flags, of course. Sewage. Rotting food. Disease. I do tend to avoid leaving dead bodies lying about whenever possible. People do talk. But why are floral smells superior to food smells? Why is the scent of pine preferable to the essence of a freshly bathed puppy?

Smell in general is very emotionally charged. Certain scents can bring you right back into your past. When I’m feeling particularly lonely, I pull out my late boyfriend’s T-shirt. It’s one of the few things of his that I was allowed to keep, and to me it smells like an embrace.

[Image credit: cafleurebon.com]

Ways to Increase Your Safety

I take the issue of safety very seriously, perhaps more so than the average person. Due to some abuse I experienced in my childhood, I have been diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). It gets triggered when I feel as if people in positions of authority don’t have my best interests at heart, or when I don’t feel safe for whatever reason.

Given my history, I could have chosen to live my life in fear and hide from the world, or I could have become clingy, assumed a victim mentality and placed my security in the hands of others, but I choose not to hide behind some man. First of all, you can’t always count on the fact that one will be there when you need him. Second, if you spend all your time cowering behind someone else, your view ahead is very limited. You could miss a lot of good stuff that way.

So here are some tricks I’ve picked up over the years, either through safety classes put on by the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office, instructional videos, common sense, or learning from the mistakes of others. I hope these tips help others live more independent lives as well.

Make sure you have efficient locks on all your windows and doors, and adequate lighting. Put a chain on your door that isn’t too long.
Never open your door to a stranger. Talk through the door if necessary. If you know you’re going to have to open the door, for example, if you’re expecting a pizza delivery, shout loudly over your shoulder, “I’ll get it!” You never want someone to think you’re alone.
Never sit in your car in a parking lot with the doors unlocked.
If someone walks up to you and you’re getting a bad vibe, before they’re too close, say, “Don’t I know your mother?” Criminals do not like to be known.
If you aren’t feeling comfortable, and you can have a friend watch out for you when you’re walking to your car, for example, don’t be hesitant to ask. You would do the same for them, wouldn’t you? Don’t let your pride override your instincts. But also don’t live your life counting on that person to be there. Accept your limitations, but also try to reduce them whenever possible. Your safety is your own responsibility.
Avoid “sliders”. This is a new phenomenon. When pumping gas, many women leave their purse on the seat in the unlocked car. Sliders will drive up beside your passenger side, hop out, quietly open your passenger door and steal your purse. So when pumping gas, keep your purse with you or lock your doors.
Never open your door to leave the house before first looking out the window or peep hole. You never know who might be standing there.
Carry keys in your hand. Don’t fumble for keys at your door. Keys can also make an effective weapon when interwoven between your fingers.
If you can avoid carrying a purse, do so. Pockets are better than fanny packs, which are better than purses. If you have to carry a purse, keep the zipper closed, the flap turned inward toward your body, in front of you and away from the street, and rest your hand on it as you walk. Never leave a purse hanging behind you on a chair in a restaurant.
If you have to carry a large amount of money, divide it up and carry it in several compartments.
Never enter an elevator with a stranger who makes you feel uncomfortable. When you do ride in an elevator, locate the alarm button in case you need it. Stand next to the control panel. If you suspect trouble, push that alarm button and as many other buttons as possible. Trust your instincts. Allow the other passengers to push the button for their floors, THEN push yours. If you’re feeling at risk, get off at an earlier floor if necessary.
When you leave a store, pause at the door and scan the parking lot before heading toward your car. Parking lots are high crime areas.
If you’re approached when you’re in your car, lay on the horn, long and loud. Flash your lights. Rev your engine. Step on your brakes. Put on your flashers. Set off the alarm. Do anything to draw attention.
Carry a flashlight at night.
If someone taps your shoulder, turn, yes, but keep walking, backward, away from him. Talk with your hands up at shoulder level so you can take action if necessary.
Always carry a well charged cell phone.
Never assume that clean cut young man is a good guy. Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes. The vast majority of criminals, however, are males between the ages of 15 and 25, so pay particular attention to them.
If someone pulls a weapon on you and says, “Give me your wallet,” by all means, give it to them. But don’t just hand it over. Throw it and run in the opposite direction.
Take self-defense classes if you can. There are all sorts of nifty wrist releases that you can learn that are beyond the scope of this blog entry. There are also a ton of wrist release and self-defense videos on Youtube. Check them out and practice with a friend.
Don’t be afraid to use your voice. Scream. Sadly, you’ll be more likely to get attention if you scream “Fire!” as opposed to “Help!” or “Rape!”.
People assume women will be quiet and polite. More than once I’ve turned to a potential bad guy and shouted, “BACK OFF!!!” They all practically soiled themselves while running away.
People also don’t expect a “normal” looking person to act crazy. So don’t be afraid to babble, foam at the mouth, twitch, even rub dirt in your hair and eat grass if you have to. It will freak them out, which will give you the psychological upper hand.
If someone grabs you, don’t struggle with the grabbed hand. While it’s holding you, you are also holding it. Worry about the other hand.
If someone pushes you, they will expect you to resist the push. So don’t. Pull. It will throw them off balance. Similarly, if someone pulls you, don’t resist the pull. Push.
Strike straight ahead if possible. It will block their vision. And go for the chin and nose.
Anything can be a weapon. A rolled up magazine to the Adam’s apple or a credit card or some folded glasses to the eyeball can do a lot of damage.
If your car breaks down and a stranger approaches, tell him or her that someone has already called the police and they’re on their way. Keep your cell phone to your ear and pretend to be talking on it. Or, if you let a good Samaritan change a tire for you, they shouldn’t be offended if you stay in the locked car while they do so.
Whenever possible, vary your routine. Try not to be predictable. But at the same time, if you’ll be doing something unusual, let someone you trust know where you’re going and how long you’ll be gone.
If your state has a sex offender database, look up the locations of the sex offenders in your neighborhood. If you live in an urban area, you’ll most likely be horrified. I have 15 living in a two mile radius of me. Mostly these people like to prey on small children. But lawbreakers are lawbreakers, and some sex offenders like to steal identities so they can hide. Get to know their faces.
If you have a chance, chat with the beat cop who works in your neighborhood. He can tell you about hot spots, gang activity, crime trends, things to look out for. It never hurts to be on a first name basis with your beat cop.
If you ever have to give your car key to someone, like a parking attendant or an oil change clerk, ALWAYS remove the key from your key chain. Never hand your house keys to anyone. They can be copied.
Create the illusion of multiple occupants in your home. People are less apt to break into a home if there’s a chance that someone is there.
Put a sign by your doorbell that says, “One person in this house works nights and sleeps during the day. Please do not disturb.”
Leave some old muddy work boots on your front porch. (Although I have to say that the last time I did this, the boots were, ironically, stolen.)
If you go out at night, leave some lights on in the house. You can even get timers so they will go off and on at preset times.
Get a dog. It doesn’t even have to be a big one. Just a noisy one. Bad guys hate noise. If you can’t have a dog, create the illusion of one. Put up beware of dog signs. Leave a BIG water bowl and a heavy duty chain in a visible place. Buy some toys, have a friend’s dog chew on them so they look used, and then leave those toys scattered in the yard.
If you can’t afford a security system, you can buy a motion detector alarm from Radio Shack, and place it high enough up in a room that it won’t be triggered by children or pets, but it will alert you if anyone enters the front part of your house while you sleep.
Keep your shades down at night.
If you have a remote entry to your car, you can always trigger your car alarm from inside the house if you need to draw attention.
If you have keyless entry to you car, make sure you block the keypad with your body so no one nearby can see your entry code. And of course do the same thing at the ATM machine.
Be aware of your surroundings. Scope out potential hiding places: shrubs, parked cars, blind alleys, dark corners. Give them a wide berth. Be alert. Don’t get distracted by your cell phone. Look around and also use your peripheral vision. Listen for movement behind you, too. If you can’t avoid dangerous places, have your tear gas in your hand and ready to be used.
Talk to your friends and family about safety. Share ideas. Share this blog entry. And if you have any other safety tips, please include them in the comments section below. Knowledge is power.

Remember, only you can assume complete mental and physical responsibility for your well-being. I can’t guarantee that any of the above ideas will work, but I certainly hope they’ll reduce your risk. It would be nice if there were always some big strong guy to come to your rescue, but relying on that creates a false sense of security. If you put your welfare solely in someone else’s hands, you’re living in a fool’s paradise. Be alert. Be safe.

[Image credit: rawfitnesssaratoga.com]

A Moral Thought Experiment

The other night around 11 pm I was driving to work. I was on a dark, deserted commercial street, and I had stupidly left my cell phone on my night stand at home. I was preoccupied with my current predicament, which is how on earth I’m going to make next month’s rent. (I still haven’t a clue.) Suddenly out of the darkness, a big old black dog stepped directly in the path of my car. I slammed on my brakes and missed him by mere inches. He didn’t react. He just continued his slow progress across the highway as if he were heavily sedated, yet on a mission. He disappeared back into the darkness. I was shaken, but I headed to work.

For the rest of the drive, instead of thinking about my rent or lack thereof, I began wondering what I’d have done if I had hit that dog and he was injured but still alive. I had no cell phone with me. I had no idea where the nearest emergency 24 hour vet was off the top of my head, and even if I did, I had no way of knowing if this dog would cooperate with my efforts to get him into my back seat. He looked unhealthy. He was acting strangely. For all I knew he was rabid.

There were no residences nearby so I couldn’t knock on doors. It’s also not the safest neighborhood for a woman alone at night. And worse yet, I’m paid by the hour, and at a time when homelessness is a real possibility, I need every hour of work I can get. I wouldn’t have been able to notify my boss that I’d be many hours late, and that would have caused a considerable amount of consternation for the coworker who couldn’t go home until I arrived. And emergency vets generally charge you $300.00 just to walk in the door. I’d have to sell a kidney to come up with that kind of money.

Could I have at least put the dog out of its misery? Oh God. How? I don’t think so.

I’m horrified at the possibility that I would have left that dog lying there to suffer. I hope I wouldn’t have. Every fiber of my being would not have wanted to. But there were so many hurdles to jump in that situation, I don’t know. I really don’t. And I hate that.

When I got home from work, I hugged my dogs for such a long time they began to fidget. I certainly wouldn’t want someone to leave them lying on the road to suffer, but then I’d never intentionally allow them to wander around loose. I also have them neutered so they don’t produce generations of dogs that will be likely to find themselves in those sorts of situations, and I keep them healthy.

I just wish I could shake the feeling that I may have just seen something really ugly about myself. I can’t be sure. I hope I never have to find out.

[Image credit: wildculture.com]

“Ja, das ist der Platz”

Standing in line on a dock in Croatia, waiting for the hydrofoil to Venice, I noticed a German tourist with her dog in tow. I hadn’t seen my dogs in weeks and missed them terribly. Using hand signals to break the language barrier, I asked if I could pet her dog. She nodded.

I began scratching his back, and he gave that shudder of pure ecstasy so typical of canines when you hit that sweet spot. You know the one. It made me smile. And the lady said, “Ja, das ist der Platz.“ Even thought I don’t speak German, I knew exactly what she meant. Yes, that’s the place. That phrase trips through my mind now whenever I pet my own dogs.

How wonderful it must be to have something so simple and innocent transport you to nirvana. I want a platz! (And yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Shame on you. But that’s not what I mean.)

(Image credit: prosensepet.com)

Zzzzzzzzz….

There’s nothing more luxurious, in my opinion, than a long nap on a rainy Saturday afternoon. I revel in turning off the phone, unhooking my bra, kicking off my shoes, putting on something made of flannel, and allowing the mattress to embrace me like a long lost lover. Pure bliss.

Rain is hypnotic. Ocean waves even more so. Put me in the vicinity of a beach and I’ll go down like a bag of wet cement.

I love to snooze so much that I don’t even have to wait for the rain, or for a Saturday afternoon. I’ve taken napping to a whole new level. If it were an Olympic sport, I’d get the gold medal for sure.

I often look back at my childhood and laugh. I cannot believe there was ever a time when I would cry when it was time for bed, but I would. I’d pitch a royal fit. Now I’m more apt to cry if I can’t sleep.

I think I was a dog in a previous life. I greatly admire the way they can go from hyper-hound mode and then heave a sigh and be completely relaxed in less than a second. And if I could sleep 18 hours a day like they do I would. My dogs encourage this. They love to snuggle with me as I sleep, and are thrilled when I do it, as long as it isn’t during their mealtimes. (And believe me when I tell you they have inner clocks of Swiss-like precision. They do not hesitate to politely cough in my ear and tap me on the shoulder when it’s time for their kibble, vile creatures that they are.)

As much as I complain about working the graveyard shift, one of the few advantages is that I can pretty much sleep any time during the day and no one gives me any guff about it. I have the perfect excuse. Now if I could just get people to stop mowing their lawns.

This is why I long for my own home-based business. I have no problem working 8, 10, even 12 hours a day. Just not consecutively. I hate being held to a schedule.

And then there’s the avoidance factor. Some people drink to escape. Others do drugs. I nap. Not only is it a much less expensive habit, but it’s much more socially acceptable.

I’d write more, but I feel a nap coming on.

(Image credit: animalfair.com)

Lying Down with Dogs

Here’s another one of my theories.

There are two types of dog owners: those who allow their dogs to sleep in their beds and those who do not. Well, technically, that part is a fact. But here comes the theory part: you can tell a lot about a person by which of these two groups he or she falls into.

Bed people (and in the interests of full disclosure, I am one of these) are nurturing, and tend to be more interested in love and affection than they are in strict cleanliness and control. Floor people are more regimented. Their bed linens tend to match and are not to be disturbed. If you are the type to iron your underwear, you’re a floor person, no doubt about it.

And because, as the saying goes, birds of a feather flock together, if you’re a bed person, your friends tend to be bed people, too. Bed people find floor people to be anal retentive, and floor people think bed people are sloppy and inefficient.

Floor people make excellent administrators. Without them, the trains would not run on time, and our medical files would be lost forever. Bed people, on the other hand, tend to be more creative and artistic. They make the world colorful and entertaining.

Bed people stop and smell the roses. Floor people plant the roses. Floor people save for retirement. Bed people live for the moment. Floor people tuck in their shirts. Bed people resent that they even have to wear them.

There is a place in this world for both groups of people. And I’m delighted to say that they both love and care for their dogs. The world would be completely unrecognizable without both groups. It’s as if there’s this canine yin yang thing happening, and it makes the world go ‘round.

But there is a third group of dog owners that I haven’t mentioned, which I call scum people. Dogs are social animals that live for nothing but approval, but this group will chain their dogs up all alone in the back yard, rain or shine, winter or summer. They let them howl all night long, and feed them Rob Roy dog food, which has absolutely no nutritional value, because it’s cheap. The more extreme members of this crowd own puppy mills or are into dog fighting. Their dogs tend to flinch when a hand is extended toward them, because their experience with hands has been harsh and painful. This group of people, as far as I’m concerned, is the scum of the earth and shouldn’t be allowed the privilege of owning a pet. I suppose there is some biological need for scum in this world, but for the life of me, I’ve yet to find it.

I much prefer bed people and floor people.

(Image credit: myhoundhaven.org)

Tag: dog

Accepting the Things I Cannot Change

I think my dog is dying. I feel so helpless. All I can do is fidget and pace, and that changes nothing. This morning I cuddled him and said, “There are tears in my future.” I take him to the vet this afternoon. I suspect it won’t go well.

One of the downsides to owning a pet is the difference in life spans. Even if, by some miracle, there’s an easy fix for my dog’s situation, there will be tears in my future. Unless I get hit by a crosstown bus, I’m going to outlive him, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

Discussing this with a friend, she reminded me of the Serenity Prayer.

This is sage advice. There really is no point in getting worked up about the things I cannot change. But dammit, no, I don’t accept this. I just don’t. So I guess I have the “courage” and “wisdom” parts down, but Serenity… ah, Serenity… she eludes me.

The Pitt Bull Question

I hear it all the time. “Pit Bulls get a bum rap. I have one. They’re really sweet.”

Believe me, I know what it’s like to love a dog beyond all reason. I prefer most dogs to most humans. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, my dogs are, indeed, my best friends. And there’s nothing cuter than a Pit Bull puppy.

So I decided to take all emotion out of it and look at the actual statistics. I went to the website dogsbite.org, and checked out this peer reviewed study entitled Dog attack deaths and maimings, U.S. & Canada, September 1982 to December 31, 2014.

As much as I would have loved to have been proven wrong about this breed, the cold hard facts are these: Pit bulls and close pit mixes caused 3617 of the total number of dogs attacking humans in fatal and disfiguring cases. That’s 69% of all such attacks by all breeds.

That’s a lot of pain and suffering. The next most dangerous breed, the Rottweiler, accounts for 535 such attacks during the same period. The third most dangerous breed is the German Shepherd, accounting for 113 attacks.

So the Pitt Bulls are more than 6 times more likely to attack, maim and/or kill than the next runner up, the Rottweiler, and 32 times more likely to do so than the German Shepherd. I think we can all agree that that’s one heck of a statistical spike.

Yes, yes, you might say that it has everything to do with their training. Pit Bulls are the most common breed to be used in illegal dog fighting. You’re absolutely right. Odds are quite good that you’re a loving dog owner who isn’t attack training your pooch.

If one type of berry caused 69 percent of all food-related death or illness, would you eat that berry? That berry might be really delicious, and that berry is certainly not going out of its way to kill you. But I strongly suspect that you wouldn’t eat that berry. Some risks aren’t worth taking.

Good Old Dog

Have you ever noticed that dogs don’t slowly age? The transition always seems to be startlingly abrupt. One day they’re zooming around the yard, chasing squirrels, and the next day it’s as if they’ve been beaten with the aging stick overnight.

I gazed at him last night in the darkness of my bedroom. He was ensconced on the pillow next to mine, tucked in all cozy and warm, snoring gently. How I treasure him. I vowed that I will cuddle with him even more these days, and I whispered into his ear, “Don’t leave me yet, my friend.”

The Secret Lives of my Dogs

I came home from work today to the smell of pee and saw a look of utter shame on both my dogs’ faces. The worst part about it is I can’t find where they did it. I’ve been crawling around on my hands and knees sniffing away, with no luck. Disgusting.

It’s disconcerting to think that my dogs have lives that I know nothing about. They have secrets. They know more about each other than I do about either one of them.

If they could speak, I wonder what they’d say to me? I wonder what they think about me? It’s a safe bet that they inwardly laugh when they see me crawling around sniffing for pee.

Cough. Gag. Found it! The bath mat. Well, at least it wasn’t the carpet. But still, yuck.

Musing on Fragrance