Each time my wife, Susan, and I step out from our condo complex with our Lilly, the Boston terrier, it’s a good bet we’ll run in to another dog. And why not? More than 63 million American families have one.
Therein lies another opportunity to socialize our girl. An opportunity that could result in anything from open paws and happy sniffs to growling gyrations that lift her off the ground. Mostly, her reaction is somewhere in between, a welcome improvement from the guaranteed hysterics she displayed during her first several months with us.
Though I’m grateful that Lilly has graduated into this reactive “grey area,” I’m still on guard when we venture out into the urban wild. Like I learned at age 15 in driver’s ed, there’s so much with which to be simultaneously attuned. And, there are times when “steering” a dog is a bit more complicated than driving a car
Dogs send signals all the time — often, their humans are too busy watching podcasts to notice. They aren’t “aiming high,” tripping the “blinkers” or checking the “rear view mirror.” Compound this with the fact that dogs are more apt to snap while on leash and when walking head-on toward one another.
As a result, I fear I’ve become an over-defensive “driver,” blurring the boundary between due vigilance and chronic avoidance. Despite Lilly’s progress, I’m still more apt to evade than engage — at once depriving our girl of the chance to make new friends and me the chance to transmit less stress through the leash.
Lilly may still whirl like a helicopter sometimes, but it is I who’ve become the helicopter parent. And, Susan is right there with me.
Fortunately, like many “children,” Lilly is learning how to break the ice despite her hovering parents. On a walk with Susan two weeks ago Lilly locked eyes with Luna, a border collie mix rescued from China’s barbaric Yulin festival. Lilly trembled at first and sank into her classic “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” pose, usually telegraphing trouble. Luna’s mom, however, was cool and serene. Luna flipped onto her back and an invitation was made. Since then, Lilly and Luna can hardly make it through the day without at least one roll in the grass together.
The next evening, Lilly and I rounded a corner and happened upon Blade, an Italian mastiff puppy with paws thicker than the Sphinx. Blade’s dad was another cool customer. Rather than scoop Lilly up into my arms or tug her behind a bush, I surrendered to the moment. Within 10 seconds Lilly and Blade were dancing together on their hind legs.
As parents, we want to shield our “children” from harm. But this desire should not extend to protecting them from the socially-rich dog lives they deserve. It is possible to remain alert without becoming oppressive.
Meeting and greeting can be messy sometimes.
Systematically denying a dog the chance to make friends out of fear of what might happen is downright cruel.