The Person I’ve Become

What’s the best thing about being a teacher? Summer break. Except not this year. This year summer break is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t have to take time off to grieve. But on the other hand, the time I looked forward to sharing with Hardy – it has been taken away from me. It seems like nothing is the same here. I love spending time in Santa Cruz, but everything I experience now is without my dog, and that aspect of this visit really is not the same.

I am definitely not functioning the same as I was pre-attack. Take yesterday for example; I went to get some lunch with my son at an outside café. People in Santa Cruz bring their dogs everywhere with them, and it seems to me like everyone here just has to have a big, scary looking dog. Someone at the café had tied their dog to a fence post on the outside of the seating area, and at some point during our lunch, a skateboarder rode by the dog. Obviously it startled the dog because its response was to bark loudly at the passerby. That sound, of the dog barking, caused me to jump out of my skin in fear. Even my son noticed my reaction. It made us both feel sad and uncomfortable because both of us know I have never been afraid of dogs.

At one time in my life, I was the one people called when they needed help with dog aggression. A few of months after I got Hardy, I began doing some volunteer work with a tri-valley nonprofit rescue group. I was so happy with the adoption process, I wanted to share my love of dogs with others in an effort show them how wonderful adopting a dog could be. So I decided to foster small dogs in my home, mostly dogs that hadn’t been socialized with other dogs, or dogs from puppy mills that were afraid of humans. It was to help them rehabilitate so they might turn out to be beloved pets, like Hardy had become for me.

Soon after, I had developed a reputation for helping people out with dog aggression. I’m not exactly sure how, but I think someone from the rescue agency was passing my name around. I think it was because, unbeknownst to me, I was rehabilitating some fairly aggressive dogs. As it turned out, I was doing nothing short of working miracles with them. I believe that Hardy had something to do with it. We worked as a team, Hardy and I. Even though it was heartbreaking work sometimes. I remember having to make the decision to put a food aggressive dog down because he was unsafe for humans. Still I was never afraid of dogs, despite the several dog bite scars I earned at the time.

I think it’s the scar from the way I lost Hardy that bothers me the most these days. I see that attack dog everywhere. I have nightmares about him. Now when I look at big dogs, I see them differently. First I see that they are big, and then I assess their personality. It sucks because I don’t think I am seeing their personality accurately anymore. I have become one of those people that trigger a barking dog, because they sense my fear. A dog with aggressive tendencies will behave strangely amidst the feeling of fear. They react negatively to it, and sometimes they attack. I hate that I know this. It makes me feel more vulnerable than I am already. I am afraid of big dogs. I’ve become the person that, in the past, I’ve tried to help.