Dogs React To Fear In Leader Of The Pack
In the middle of the night, someone banged on my door. I could hear what sounded like a violent argument between two men. More crashing on the door. My two dogs were on full bark alert. There was no way I was going to open my door to confront a situation that could possibly escalate into something beyond my control. I grabbed the phone, ready to dial 911, at the same time heard a car driving away. I always left the outside lights on. When I peeked through the curtains, no one was there.
Long after the men had left, the dogs were still barking. I was wide awake. The cat who was new to the house, had slithered under the covers to hide the moment the uproar began. Fear. Such a small word. I wondered if the dogs were still barking because they sensed my apprehension, or was it the verbal violence they heard from the men in the front yard of their home.
We all needed soothing. Yet, I didn't want to put the house lights on. I wandered around, sneaking looks through the windows, the dogs nervously following me. The cat, smart thing that she was, stayed hidden. Watching my two tiny dogs, who were shaking, I knew I had to calm down. The poor wee mites were reacting to my uneasy feelings. If the leader of their pack is scared stiff, they must be very afraid as well.
The upset had me thinking back to my childhood. Our house was home to a dog that my Dad thought was a big baby. The dog who had wandered in one day, stayed when my Mom fed him a meal. He cringed at the slightest noise, barked like a fool if a leaf blew across the yard, hid under a shed when someone walked into the yard. I felt sorry for him. I used to pet him, telling him that he didn't need to be so afraid, my Dad would protect us from any harm.
We lived beside a lake. In the harsh winter it froze over. Wolves could be seen running on the ice, plus at night their singing seemed awfully close to the house. That dog would almost shred the door to the house to be allowed in. Dad was a kind man. He'd get up, let the animal in. It had its tail tucked between his legs, panting hard, whining in fear. He'd follow Dad into the bedroom. Mom would sleepily ask what was going on. I could hear the smile in Dad's voice when he'd tell her he had to let the big baby in. Dad would talk to the dog, who was on a rug beside the bed, as close to Dad as he could get. It didn't take long before the dog stopped his panting, lay down and slept. He felt safe. The leader of his pack, my dad, would protect him from harm, imagined or otherwise.
For my dogs sake, I had to quiet the fear in myself. My terror was a result of past actions that happened as a woman living alone on a ranch. I still felt vulnerable. It was time to get past that. So, on went the lights, I put on some music, made some tea, took a book and the dogs and I settled into my big old chair. After a bit, they stopped trembling. The cat slid out of bed to join us. When I found myself nodding off, we all shuffled back to the bedroom.
Jasper and Rosa curled tightly around each other in their bed. The cat purred. Before sleep claimed me, I thought was an awesome responsibility being the leader of a pack is. It had forced me to confront my own fear, in order to calm my tiny pack. We were safe.
