The Case of the Licking Attack Dog

Adventures on the Trail

My son was terrified.

We were heading to the trail. I was walking. He had his bike.

We crossed the street diagonally. There were no cars in either direction. Traffic has been pretty light since the quarantine.

A man stood outside with his German Shepherd. As we headed towards him, I noticed the dog had gotten loose.

We kept walking, but I looked up at the man. “Is the dog safe?” I asked. I assumed the answer was yes because he didn’t say “stop!” or “wait!” He just watched.

As we approached, I realized my error. The dog ran right for us, and she did not look friendly. My son stopped short in the middle of the street.

My son has always loved puppies, but he’s extremely skittish around big dogs. I’m sure the dog felt this.

I urged him to get to the sidewalk anyway. I’m not a fan of dog bites, but I like getting hit by a car even less.

As the man tried unsuccessfully to catch his large beast, it came towards us. I’d read a story recently where one of the main characters was a dog trainer. So I thought to try her advice: turn your back to the dog so it loses interest.

Great idea — except my son wasn’t on the same page. He ran from the dog. Which caused the dog to chase him.

At one point, the dog ran towards my son and passed by me. I went to catch its collar.

That’s when I noticed the bared teeth. Yikes. One of us was about to get bit. I backed off, wishing I knew more about dog behavior.

I’ve never been a dog person. I’ve always loved dogs, but I don’t know how to train them. I don’t understand how they “think.” How they operate.

Right then, I wish I did.

I wondered not-so-fleetingly if there was such a thing as dog training school for non-dog-owners.

Finally, the guy caught up, just in time for my son to run, the dog to give chase…and to lunge at him.

At that point, the man finally got a hold of his dog and walked off. No apology, no words, nothing. And that’s when I saw my son’s horrified reaction.

“It licked me! Clean my hand! Clean my hand!”

Luckily, I was carrying some hand sanitizer. I squeezed a copious amount into his hand and watched him scrub.

We repeated.

Then, he got back on his bike and we continued on our way.

There is an old story my father told me once. A Buddhist story. I’ve shared it before; but today, it makes even more sense to me.

Two monks, a teacher and his pupil walk down the trail. They arrive at a river. The river is flowing rapidly.

A woman stands on the other side of the river. She is unable to cross. The teacher carries her across the river. She thanks him and continues on her way. The monks continue in the other direction.

Several hours later, the student says, “Teacher, we are not allowed to touch women. Yet, you carried that woman across the river!”

“Ah!” Says the teacher. “I carried her 10 feet across the river. You, on the other hand, have carried her all this way.”

In “The Untethered Soul at Work,” Michael Singer talks about samskaras — these emotional blocks we hang on to. Things happen and, rather than letting them go, we continue to carry them with us.

This applies to both the good and the bad.

Then, we live our lives working hard to avoid the things that bring up those samskaras we don’t want to feel…and searching unendingly for the ones we do want to feel…

…rather than living in the moment, and enjoying our current experience.

I believe my father’s story about the monks exemplifies this.

Well…I’ve carried this dog experience with me for a few days now. I think it’s time to let it go.