Memory: I’m nearly six years old, and I’m sitting on my grandmother’s couch. My nearly 4-year-old brother is at the other end. We’re watching television. My mom is on the phone, coordinating our family’s move from one city to the next. My baby brother, who is not yet walking, is cruising along the fireplace. He lets go of the hearth and plops down on his squishy, diapered booty. My grandmother’s elderly dog is startled, and instinctively jerks her head around and sinks her teeth into my baby brother’s face.
I don’t remember seeing the bite. I do remember the screams. My baby brother’s screams. My poor mother, yelling for help as she clutched her baby to her chest. Her shirt covered in blood.
This is why I do not trust your dog.
It has nothing to do with your dog.
I’m sure your precious fur baby has never hurt a fly. He doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body. She’s been trained well. Spent his whole life around kids.
Then again, it has everything to do with your dog.
He still has a mouth full of sharp teeth. She is still an animal.
Truth be told, I don’t trust my own dog.
He’s a 110 pound labrador. He has probably harmed a fly or two, as he thinks they are flying dog treats. But, he doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body. He’s been trained well. Handled my classroom of boisterous first graders like a champ. In the three and a half years since we brought our oldest home, this dog has never given me a reason not to trust him with my babies!
Still, he has a mouth full of sharp teeth. He’s an animal.
I never leave him with my children unsupervised (no child should be left unsupervised with a dog). I watch his body language to know when he’s feeling overwhelmed with the kids. I use the baby gate system in our house to ensure that he has time to himself.
Of course, I let the kids play with him. While carefully ensuring that I’m teaching them the appropriate way to respect the dog and his boundaries. Using gentle hands to give “loves.” Not grabbing or hugging or tickling the dog. Not chasing or purposefully scaring the dog.
Because the issue isn’t just that I don’t trust your dog.
I also respect your dog.
As a living, breathing entity with its own thoughts and emotions. A creature who can feel overwhelmed or nervous or annoyed. Someone worthy of having his boundaries respected. Dogs can’t say, “hey, Ben, I don’t like hugs, so please don’t pull on my neck.” They growl. They press their ears back. They bite.
Here’s the final rub – I don’t want my children to fear dogs.
So, while I’m on high alert around your dog, I’m not going to try to avoid your dog(unless there is a prior history of aggression – then, yes, I am going to avoid your dog). I won’t ask you to automatically remove your dog from our presence.
What you do need to do is be vigilant around your dog.
Watch for the dog to tell you he is done playing. Supervise your dog, so that she doesn’t injure or intimidate my kids. Remove your dog if he’s getting overwhelmed.
And, I’ll supervise my children so that they don’t overwhelm your pup. I’ll make sure that they respect your dog. I’ll remove them from the situation if they can’t.
Because, if we both respect your dog, we’ll all be safer. Especially my small children.
My baby brother was lucky. The dog bite resulted in two stitches that barely left a scar.
It could have been so much worse.
Which is why I do not trust your dog.
