Perhaps, for that reason, and because I love dogs as much as I do, I should be more willing to forgive the generic “you”, i.e., humans, for doing the same thing.
Yesterday was “Day #1″ for my new dog. His name’s Blue, a Lab mix who shares quite a bit of my history. When I met him he was incarcerated. Even had visitor limitations. He’s also quite a traveler. His last known legal address was in Roma, California, a mere 262.76 miles northeast of Oceanside, California, where I live. I grew up my first 41 years in and around the Lansing, Michigan area, 2,252.75 miles northeast of Oceanside. Any fool can tell you that’s exactly 262.76 “dog miles”, so we have commonality.
Blue stood accused of being aggressive, with a notation he’d bitten someone. If you knew the boy, you’d laugh at the idea he’d ever hurt anyone on purpose. However, another trait we share is impulsiveness. He loves to play and demands tons of attention. Adding to the problem, as he has no arms to hug with, he uses his mouth. It’s called “mouthing” in dog circles. Heck, he did it with me when I picked him up at the Humane Society, where he’d been in the clink. I soon had blood all over my left wrist. I bleed easily now because of the chemo and the fact I’m older than dirt.
Albeit he had strikes against him across the board, he received one benefit I missed out on as I was growing up. They neutered him two days ago. That means he’ll never have any of those messy divorces and won’t be tossed into the hoosegow for child support he didn’t even know about. Yet, there’s that impulsive behavior thing. It was evidenced again last night as an offshoot of his protective nature.
It took us no time at all to establish I am Alpha, the “leader of the pack” and the one to whom he owes his loyalty. As I staggered off to bed last night, quietly praying he’s now old enough to be past the chewing stage, (he is), I patted the bed so he’d jump up on it. My plans were for him to sleep at the foot of the bed. That’s when he saw a dog in my-our room.
Blue went nuts! He told that s.o.b., (come to think of it, any male dog is the son of a bitch), to get moving and never come back! Threatened the intruder with a serious ass kickin’ and a lot more if he didn’t depart immediately. Never gave him a chance to explain why he was there or what he had in mind. Instead, he issued threats and, if you’d heard them, you’d know none were idle in any way. He had it in mind to serve that strange dog he didn’t know a big ol’ can of whup-ass.
The sliding doors of my large walk-in closet are two huge mirrors. The unwelcome dog he saw was himself. What he did was see someone who didn’t belong as a regular, made his own assumptions about what the pooch had in mind, and got nasty right away. If that sounds familiar, it’s because that’s how the generic “you” treats us, the homeless.
I’m just sayin’.
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