Scene 1:
A young jogger is running early morning in the park. She has only been back to jogging for about 6 months. It took her several years and lots of counselling to get over the attack she had suffered that left her physically and emotionally battered.
But she is back to running. Still a little “jumpy” – easily startled. Still looking a bit over her shoulder. But it is a great cool morning and she feels on top of her game. As she is heading towards a clearing she sees something on the other side coming out of the bushes. Another needless “freakout attack” is causing her to slow down and look harder. Then, there it is! A large, dark figure racing towards her. Is he carrying a knife? She can’t tell. Another person is racing right behind the dark figure, shouting something in a foreign language. She wants to race away, but fear has her paralyzed. She can hear herself screaming.
Actually this was all a misunderstanding. The dark figure was a fellow jogger who had lost grip of his dog’s leash and the dog had taken off in her direction. The other person was his friend. Both were yelling at the girl to ask if she had seen the dog. Unfortunately they did not speak English.
Scene 2:
Muffin is wandering happily through the park with her owner. Sniffing and bounding around on her leash. Mom and her have come a long way since she was adopted. She used to be fearful and reactive to just about everything, but with time, love and training Muffin has made great strides. She still eyes other dogs suspiciously when they walk by , then looks at mom for assurance and praise for not barking and lunging.
As she is intensely sniffing a freshly dropped rabbit poop considering it’s consumption, she eyes something in the corner of her eye. As she looks up she sees Blondie the Golden bounding towards her. Muffin is struck with terror. She makes an attempt to look at mom – her trained auto default, but just can’t. The man walking leisurely behind Blondie shouts something that she does not understand – but it does not slow the Golden down. Muffin starts screaming.
“Don’t worry she’s friendly!” did not help Muffin. She does not speak English. It did help her mom in so much as that it assured her that Muffin was in no physical danger. But under her breath she grumbled ” There goes 6 months and hundreds of dollars in behavior modification…thanks a lot jerk!”
I have been on both sides of the spectrum in my own life. I have been victim and perpetrator. Years ago, when Mutley was still alive and young I had visited my son and his family and had taken Mutley along. Mutley was a very nice dog and really liked people. Actually, he was a therapy dog, so needles to say, greeting strangers was his field of expertise.
One day, as we were exiting my son’s house I noticed too late that a lady was just passing by the front of the house. Mutley hightailed it down the driveway before I even realized that he was out the door. He was almost up to the lady by that time and she started screaming. Mutley stopped and looked befuddled. I heard myself say those stupid words: ” Don’t worry – He’s friendly!”
By that time the lady was crumpled to the ground, weeping. I felt terrible. As she composed herself somewhat she told me that she had been viciously attacked by a dog as a child and that she has been terrified of dogs ever since. One could argue that she obviously needed to deal with this trauma for her own good, but this was neither the time and place. The take away for me was that my “friendly” assurance did not help her one bit.
On the other hand, I have been the recipient of the “don’t worry” message on many occasions. My little Socks is a continuous work in progress concerning her anxiety towards other dogs. She has made great strides, but each event throws her back and certainly is no fun for me:
Its Sunday morning. I am walking Socks, Trixie and little old Rusty by a quiet canal. I picked this time and place because I had never so much as seen a person at this time of day. As we got close to a cross road a black lab turns the corner. He stops in indecision and looks at us. The owner slowly appears – unconcerned. He calls his dog.
The dog makes his decision and with raised tail heads towards us. Socks starts barking and a sickening panic rises up inside of me.
Great Scott Dog Training 