Dr. Jekyll and Mr... Target?


Admitting to myself that Target was reactive was hard, realizing it wasn't my fault was harder,  but having to wipe the slate clean every time we entered a potentially reactive situation was the hardest.

Target was (still is) the biggest lump at home.  While my boyfriend (now my husband) and Comet are all about the energy, Target and I are habitually lazy.  While they are often up for 5 am runs, a common comment in my house is: 
"when Comet and I left this morning you were still spooning with your dog"

He's the best cuddling dog, he doesn't wake up when somebody makes a noise.

There was a time before we got married that my partner went away for work for long periods of time.  I decided at that point that it wouldn't be fair to Comet to change his regular workouts (aka his Dad's department).  Determined to keep up his routine, I roused Target from bed at the grotesque 5 am, geared us all up and headed out for an early morning walkie.  Target was still a little heavy, so it made sense that going for a walk before work wouldn't hurt him.

Apparently, nobody sent Target the memo and he tipped himself over on the sidewalk in the backyard and refused to move until I signed "Bed?".  He got up, ran to the back door and waited for me to let him back into the house.  Target didn't just go back to his bed, he went back to mine!  Needless to say, Target went back to sleep and, after a brief look of envy at him resting in a warm bed, Comet and I reluctantly went for our walk.

For the longest time it was an impossibility for me that this fluffy, cuddly lump at home, was the same dog that nearly dislocated my shoulder every time a small dog side-eyed him in the dog park.  Dog park Target, was always ready to throw down!  At home Target, wanted to puppy dog eyes you into sharing your ice cream.

In some ways though, he was a different dog when nothing was around to scare him.  Do people not have a tendency to do or become something out of character when they're afraid?

The issue was trying to be aware that there was a trigger in a scenario because of past experiences,  but at the same time not being alarmed or emotional about it in any way. It made it impossible to judge any situation with any kind of vehemence and as a result all I could do was survey the area with a Stepford Wife's style countenance.
"Oh, look. A man is swinging his small child around by his arms in the crowded dog park while his wife allows their beagle to harass other dogs on his fully extended, retractable leash.  
That.  
Is. 
Potential. 
For. 
Concern". 
When Target would spot the chaos and look at me for direction,  I had to smile. Not that a smile made any difference, but I was sure the scowl I was internally working on would have made it worse. On the upside, between the joker- like grin from me and the Hannibal Lecter-esque muzzle on my dog,  the majority of people just left us alone.

His reticence towards strangers acting... well strange,  was never really calmed by my smile. You can't lie to your dog. 

Let me repeat:

You cannot lie to your dog.
  

If I didn't pull off my smiley mask with perfect confidence, I would have about half a second to realize Target knew I was lying and throw myself on him, seemingly in slow motion like a hero in an action movie throwing himself on a bomb.  Diffusing a detonated, deaf, dog bomb is graceless in comparison to the action movie star.  It involves waving your arms to try and get your dog's attention, moving on slowly, but not too fast to try and let him know that you're not running away, but still trying to make the people he's freaking out at comfortable with his presence.  What it usually ends up being is, me, hauling away a sixty pound dog, who's barking furiously at some surprised woman who's upset him by wearing a wide brimmed hat.

It ended up being a balancing act and a guessing game.  Everyday was different and it was mandatory that I start each day hoping for the best.  If anything getting into the habit of leaving yesterday in yesterday ended up serving me well in other areas of my life as well.

I wish I could say that I was surprised that learning to help Target actually helped me more than it helped him.  But, I've always found that, with animals it works that way.  Animals, especially the troubled ones help us all find things in ourselves that we never knew were missing.

In having to reset myself every time I enter a dog park, meet new people or enter an uncomfortable situation, he's helped me put the uglier parts of my past far behind me.  When I wake up in the mornings, Target is there looking at me, a small tail wag for a greeting.  His face, wide eyed and happy to see me says,

"Yesterday might have been scary, but today looks good!"

So, what do you call it when your dog is a basket case who, also immensely enriches your life and emotional well being?

I'm his Emotional Support Human


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