Chico

My first encounter with Chico was a peaceful one. Upon receiving him on my porch, safely latched inside his dog crate, I peered inside. I took care not to stare at him, knowing that direct eye contact with a dog would be interpreted as a threat. When I saw him, all I could think was there had to be a mistake. He didn’t bark. He didn’t growl. He didn’t seem scary. He just gazed back at me with vacant, lonely eyes. I felt like I was watching a dog in one of those television commercials that tugged on your heartstrings to donate money for abandoned and abused animals.

I picked up the crate and carried it to the backyard dog training area. All of my other foster dogs had already been put outside for the morning. They were running around marking and socializing with each other underneath the sunny, blossom scented, spring air. As I opened up the gate and walked into the enclosure, the dogs began barking and generally behaving unruly. I heard nothing from inside the crate as I set it down on the ground. I picked up my handy water bottle and squirted the offending dogs on their noses stating, “no bark.” The dogs obeyed, and it became quiet as I opened the crate door, keeping my water bottle at the ready.

Out walked a little white terrier mix, slowly and cautiously. He sniffed the ground passively as the other dogs came over to meet him. His head looked like a Chihuahua, and his body was muscular like a Jack Russell. He had an all white body and the cutest little caramel speckles on perky white, pointed ears. I watched, attentively, as Hardy and the other foster dogs welcomed him into the pack. It was looking like a harmonious interchange. I felt relieved. This was going to be easy, I thought.

I left the dogs to go and get a few treats, wanting to see if he knew the command, sit. He looked to be about two years of age, and I wanted to test him out and see what sort of training he had received, if any. I went back inside the house and gathered up my chicken treats, as well as pieces of kibble to use for rewards. After I returned back inside the training enclosure, finding the animals getting along perfectly, I found myself wondering how could a dog that looked to weigh a mere twelve pounds be so dangerous?

I was about to find out.

As I had become accustomed, the dogs began to bark and carry on once I came back inside the dog area. Once they realized that I had treats, however, they became highly attentive and well behaved group. They seemed to follow Hardy’s cue. He was always the first dog to behave, the “alpha” in our pack, and I rewarded him both verbally and with a treat. I watched to see who would get the next reward, waiting and watching the dogs to see which would be the next one to sit and be quiet.

The new terrier mix caught my attention. He was moving slowly towards me growling and raising his upper lip to display his front teeth. Watching him move, with his barred teeth, huge jaws, and stocky body, he looked extremely threatening. I thought he looked like a tiny Pit Bull getting ready to attack. I quickly averted my eyes, yawned, and smacked my lips (these are calming signals dogs use to communicate a peace). I raised the pitch of my voice to become even more non-threatening saying, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”