I Will Walk No More

One of the early evolution of Mitzi's fear-based personality involved a complete and total refusal to walk. She would take enough steps as needed to pee on flowers but then she would walk no more. I pulled, I cajoled, I offered treats, I worried that I looked like a bad dog owner. Nothing.

I decided it was time to get a trainer. I found one that would come to my place. When she arrived she immediately starting talking to my dog in baby talk. Random strangers also do this when I'm out walking and I find it completely bizarre. They're all like: 'you're such a pretty girl, yes you are, yes you are!'. For reals, this happens. And I'm like: 'what the fuuuuuuuuckkkk!' But only in my head. In real life I have an awkward smile plastered on my face.

Anyhoo, this trainer was actually pretty great. She got Mitzi walking again (her advice: pull HARDER!) and she confirmed what I knew: my dog was scared and defensive but not at all aggressive.

She also told me I should talk to her in enthusiastic baby talk.

Um...

I do not do baby talk. I don't know if humans can share their organs with animals but I'm going to assume they can. I would give Mitzi a kidney but I will not talk to her in a voice that would cause me to vomit with every sentence.

And really, I don't talk enthusiastically about anything, except maybe tacos, Talisman (being supreme winner of), if I think you are wrong and I am right (which is always), people who drive while being idiots (more on that later) and zombie attacks (which is our future, clearly).

But it's okay, I found a way to connect with my dog that does not compromise my strong stance on baby talk. I'm not going to deny that a certain lilt has slowly crept into my voice. I'm not going to deny that sometimes I just sit and kiss my dog while calling her gorgeous. But baby talk? Fuck no.

Suicide Attempt #1

After a few weeks of being too terrified to react to anything, Mitzi started reacting to everything. When we walked by other dogs, her eyes would go crazy, she would lunge and jump at them and bark her head off. Sometimes I would try to explain that she was a rescue and still adjusting, other times I would just get the french toast out of there. Talking to strangers is hard, talking to them when you have the Hound of Hell seemingly trying to kill their dog is slightly harder. It was a complete front though, she is totally harmless. She was really saying: 'Don't come near meeee!!! But if you do I will totally run away! My barks are meaningless. MEANINGLESS!'. I found out later this is common in fearful dogs, at the time, I knew nothing. Actually, I knew one thing, in Greece she played happily with other dogs but that was in a large, open space. Look at her up there with her Greek pals, she's like 'hey, buds, let's fucking party!!!. My solution was to take her to an off-leash dog park. What a fool I was.

I picked a nice, big one close to my house, down at the lake. It was full of trees, squirrels and usually not too many dogs. Perfect. Nope, opposite of perfect.

At first she just kind of ran away barking from every dog that approached her but I thought 'good, she's getting exercise'. And really, she didn't seem THAT scared. It turns out my eyes didn't really know total dog fear when they saw it. A fellow dog owner came up to me and asked 'new dog'. I said 'yes' but I was thinking 'YOU DON'T KNOW ME!'. Anyhoo we chatted for a bit and then I saw him start to run like a maniac. Mitzi was trying to jump the fence out of the dog park. One thing though, the spot she was trying to jump led to a 10 foot drop, right into Lake Ontario. By the time I started running she was at the top of the fence a mere second from plummeting to her (possible) death. Fellow dog owner got there just in time and grabbed her for me. I felt so guilty. I had pushed her too hard. She needed more time. Also, she pooed her pants. But I could not blame her for that.

I'm Scared of Everything Too

I, like my dog, am scared of many things. And I too have trouble trusting people. I don't run and hide when someone starts sweeping, I'm more like 'fuck, yeah, let's clean!' but when people walk toward me, I too get confused and start to think many things. Should I smile at them? Do I look them in the eye? Is that too aggressive? Too weird? Are they going to think I'm trying to fight them? Do I want to fight them? If I fought them, would I win? What if I accidentally kill them during this fight? SHOULD I GO COMPLETELY CRAZY AND SAY HELLO??? Thankfully I can hide my anxiety better than Mitzi. I don't pull my tail between my legs and try to run in the opposite direction, I just think too much and luckily no one can hear my thoughts, right? RIGHT??!

Oh yes, I changed my dog's name from Areti to Mitzi. You see I kept stumbling every time I called her and would start thinking: Am I saying that right? What if a Greek person overhears me saying it? Will they laugh at me? Are the Greek people a cruel people by nature? And so forth.

Zero Per Cent Regal

Areti is not regal. This is a much truer representation of her personality:

She is 60% scared, 30% fun doofus, 7% squirrel hunter (in theory) and 3% farts. Those percentages adjust depending on amount of fireworks being shot off, amount of people doing the Buffalo Stance and the type of treat I have given her. Though the last variable really only affects the farting.

When I first met her, hot off a long connecting flight from Greece, she was completely stunned. She barely made a noise or moved. That soon gave way to complete and utter fear of everything around her. 

This dog had led a sheltered life interrupted by an adoption by some mega jerks who did who knows what to her. She was in a completely different country and was clearly not used to the unpredictable loudness of a city. 

Poor sweetie. I admit that I had romanticized how it would work. I thought that my love would break her out of her shell in a few weeks. I was a fool. I'm a year and a half into having her and she is currently hiding in the basement due to a recent fear she has developed of my laptop. I'll explain that later. For now, I have to go check on a weirdo.

The Stupidest Thing I Have Ever Done

In the summer of 2010 I decided to adopt a dog. Why not, right? Dogs are the best. All you have to do is feed, love and entertain them in simple ways and they are loyal for life. Getting a puppy from a breeder or pet store was not something I considered, I always knew when I got a dog it would be a rescue. I started looking at pet rescues online and almost adopted about one million dogs. Anyhoo, finally I came across the picture above. Look at that dog. She's so regal, so noble. She would stand strongly beside me as we walked from here to the apocalypse.

The contact info said: 'Tails From Greece', which seemed weird but dog rescues have weird names. I called, this dog lived in Greece. The rescue was run by a woman in Toronto who had visited Greece many times and had witnessed how poorly dogs were treated and how badly they needed help. She co-ordinated the adoption of dogs in Greece to people in Canada and Europe. This only made this dog seem more noble to me and when I inquired and found out her back story, I was in too deep to turn back.

Areti, as she was called then, was a year and a half. She had been adopted for 5 months as a puppy but the family that adopted her left her tied up outside in a body harness, one that became increasingly tight and uncomfortable as she grew. Somehow the shelter in Greece found out about this and took her back, she had lived at the shelter for most of her life. She was apparently nice and played well with other dogs but a bit sad and would sit in her cage looking melancholy most of the time. Only a cruel monster would not adopt this dog and I am at least four degrees above cruel monster.

One thing though, flying her to Canada was a big ordeal and I would not be able to meet her until she arrived. It was all or nothing. When I told my sister I was going to do it, she said it was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. Obviously she doesn't remember the time I almost broke my finger when I fell off a tequila-soaked table and into the bushes crushing my hand, which was holding a water gun at the time, beneath me.

No matter, I picked all.