Love Trumps Fear

You are Dillinger. You are not mine, you belong to my best friend. You are sweet, and goofy, and loyal, and wicked smart, one of the best dog's I've ever known. I remember when she first got you, you were so small. You were only four weeks old, but the shelter was going to euthanize you because you lived in a "no pitbulls allowed" kind of state. My friend did not hesitate to swoop in and save you.

I couldn't believe how small and fragile you were. I had to be so, so careful picking you up the very first time I met you. You were tiny and a little scared, but eager to give me kisses and make me fall in love with you. One of my hands was in a full cast, and the other in a splint, but I cuddled with you the best I could.

Before I met you, I had a less pleasant experience with a dog. Let me preface by saying I don't blame that dog for my broken hands and mangled arm; dogs don't have ill intent. Dogs just have fear and automatic reactions when they feel they are in danger or their resources are in danger.

Finn was a beautiful german shepherd. I had just met him at the kennel I worked at and my first thought was how upset I was about the conditions of the kennel. I went to feed him and everything went smoothly; however, I noticed he had no water dish. I asked my supervisor how long it had been since the poor pup had any water, and they shrugged for they did not no.

Did I mention this was my first day? I was young, and this was my first real job involving animals. I figured since giving the dog food (and taking away the food dish after) had gone well, why not water? I crouched down to try to get the water dish into his too-small cage, and he leapt at me. I'm sure there was some kind of warning but I was too inexperienced to see it. I throw my hands in front of my face, and the next thing I know, someone is pulling the dog off of me and both my hands and my right arm are bleeding heavily.

My right hand and my left middle finger were broken and I had multiple lacerations in my right arm. I don't blame Finn. I feel for whatever upbringing and life he had to make him so afraid, to make him act the way that he did. But my understanding and forgiveness couldn't stop my gut reaction of fear. I had to stop volunteering at the animal shelter at that point, for the sounds of barking would cause me to have a panic attack.

I come back to thinking about you, Dillinger, in that moment of meeting you when you couldn't have weighed more than 2lbs. It started raining, and so I very carefully put you in the inside pocket of my rain jacket (with your tiny head poking out), keeping my coat semi closed so that you wouldn't get wet. I loved you so dearly from when I first set eyes on you.

It's been 10 years now, 6 of those spent with me working at an animal hospital. I love working with dogs, cats, birds, lizards, and rodents. I still get that twinge of fear, sometimes, with large and unruly german shepherds in particular. But I know that their fear is greater than mine. I am always able to push aside my own fear, and overwhelm it with feelings of love instead.