For most of my life I have been phobic of dogs. And I don't mean 'scared' of dogs or something stemming from an allergy or disliking their smell, It isn't that I am more of a cat person, so dogs are therefore bad. I mean that I had a phobia.
When I was very young I was bitten by a pit bull on my way home. Old enough to remember the experience in detail, but young enough that it left a profound impression on my that lasted much longer than that single event.
I had already been nervous of dogs. They would bark loudly on the other side of fences and no one seemed able to really control their dog, even with a leash on. I wasn't so scared, as just incredibly wary. I was told by my father that dogs only get mad when you are on their territory, so I was careful to avoid lawns that weren't ours or anything else that I thought a dog could see as theirs. I didn't blame the dogs. They are being protective, and they didn't know me. But they were much bigger and faster than me, so I kept my distance.
On the day I was bitten I was walking home with my younger sisters. They had lots of excitement and energy, so ran ahead. I followed more slowly behind, because even then I wasn't into running needlessly.
As I passed a house I noticed that there were two large black dogs laying on the front lawn, watching us. I didn't like that, and because of the street there was no way to walk around them. So I tried to get out of their territory by walking in the middle of the street. (Not a lot of traffic, to be clear) The middle of the street can't be theirs. I also didn't look them in the eyes, because I had been told that is a challenge.
I walked past the house, and one of the dogs got up and followed me slightly. I didn't freak out, and I tried to stay calm.
The pit bull bit me in the calf.
I freaked out then. I screamed as loud as I could and took off running. The dog let me go and headed back to the front yard, but I ran all the way home without stopping, terrified and sobbing.
Sisters safe, my mother let me tell her what happened. And then proceeded to do the thing that I considered the worst thing we could do. She made me walk her back to the dogs so she could find the owners and complain.
Me still crying hysterically because my then worst fear had just been realized, we walked back to the house where the dogs were.
The dog was more than happy to repeat the incident. I wasn't bitten again, but I did stand there and cry loudly as the dog came right up to my mother and started barking, growling, and snarling at her. It most likely would have bitten her, except she started screaming at it, and not even an aggressive pit bull would cross my mother if it had half a brain.
Though it may not have had the chance to get up the nerve. My howling in terror, my mother screaming, and the dog barking and snarling, were apparently enough to get the dog owner's attention. Luckily, as the second dog was now coming off the front lawn.
The family, shouting and calling the dog away, came out of their home at a run. The home across the street from where the dogs were hanging out.
They got their dogs inside. Kind of. One came back through the side yard where they hadn't closed the fence. Seeing that dog coming didn't help much of my fear.
The family asked me questions after my mother made it clear what had happened. They asked which dog had bitten me. I told them. And they were surprised because it was the other dog that had a history of biting people, and I was the first person the other, younger dog had ever bitten. They said this as if my being the only person the dog had ever singled out should make me feel better. It didn't.
They explained that they were living on one side of the street, but had just bought the house on the opposite side and were moving in. So they had put their dogs at the new place while they moved everything over. They had been having dinner when I had been bitten and screamed, so they hadn't heard me.
Because the skin on my calf was torn, but I wasn't bleeding, my mother told them she wasn't going to call the police or file a complaint, because she wouldn't take me to get a rabies shot as the dog hadn't made me bleed. The family tried to laugh it off and say the dog was just playing or giving me a warning. Mom just told them to keep their dogs locked up, and we went home.
I really didn't get over it. My phobia started with just being hyper aware of all dogs barking from then on. In case they were mad at me. That street where the dogs were I had to pass a lot, so I was always so scared having to pass where I knew they were.
Then, not long after that, on my way to the bus one morning, another dog, black but not a pit bull, ran up to me. I was in hysterics in a second, and couldn't bring myself to run past the dog it case it would chase me and or bite me. I just stood there crying as the dog tried to jump on me (Playing, I now know) and I pushed it away. The bus driver thought I was petting it, got mad and drove away. So I was in the street with a big black dog, crying, and the bus drove away and my house too far to be in sight. Someone in a nearby house heard me crying and called out a window. The dog ran away, unconcerned, and that person asked if the dog had bitten me. I called back no, so the person closed their window and I had to walk back home, alone and crying. Mom was mad that I missed the bus.
So from then on, I couldn't get the fear out of my head. I was always listening to know if a dog was coming. The sound of a dog collar was my biggest fear, or a sound like a dog's paws on the street behind me. I very quickly learned where all the dogs in my area lived, and avoided them at all costs. If I saw a dog up the road, no matter how far away, I refused to walk that road. I soon started taking other routes to places I wanted to go in order to avoid places I knew dogs were, or where I had once seen a dog.
It lasted for years. And didn't get better. If I would see a dog, no matter how nice and calm or cute, I would immediately feel my heart drop, my stomach want to throw up from the fear. I would get a shock through my body like cold electricity. I would either freeze completely, or flee without thinking. The thought of a dog would start me crying, no matter how safe I was.
It lasted all throughout school, and when I came to university, it hadn't changed. Though I knew there were much less dogs in a college town, it didn't help my fear. A dog barking made me want to be sick, and nearly panic. If I heard a dog barking anywhere near while I was preparing to leave for class, I wouldn't go that day. It wasn't worth the risk for me.
Dogs, in my mind, meant death. It went from they are scary and might bite me, to my mind telling me in no uncertain terms that if a dog wanted to, it would attack and kill me. Dogs were bad, then evil.
I had nightmares for YEARS about dogs that were smart enough to hate me personally and try to kill me, but not smart enough that I could reason with them and get them to stop. In my dreams people would know that I was in danger and going to die, and just not care.
The sounds of dog collars and dog's short claws on pavement quickly morphed. The zipper tags on back packs sounded like dog collars to me. I can't tell you how many time I would hear that and be near panic when I turned to just see a student with a big backpack. Purses did that too. Decorative chains, that were on bags, boots, and so many other things, sounded like the chains that kept dogs on their lawn. It got to the point that dried leaves on pavement sounded like dogs coming, and every single time a breeze came in the fall, I would jump in fright.
And because it was years in the making, that is just how I lived. I would often go more than half an hour out of my way getting to places to avoid places that my mind linked with dogs. I wouldn't even consider visiting a complex that was dog friendly. Dog parks looked like a literal Hell to me.
If a friend had a dog, they would either put it away, I would refuse to visit, or if they refused to leash their dog but visiting was impossible to avoid, I sat there in a sweat, near tears and not moving or speaking in case the dog took too much notice of me.
If I were walking alone, I was never even concerned of a bad person grabbing me or getting kidnapped. Because it was dogs that were going to kill me.
It didn't matter what kind of dog, big or small, mellow or active. It was a dog, so I was beyond terrified. Walking down the street if I saw a shape that could have been a dog on further inspection, I just turned around and refused to go. If I saw a paw print in the mud or snow that was a dog size, I was sick as I waited for it to attack me from any direction.
Most of my skipped classes in school had nothing to do with needing to sleep in or not liking the class or not having the homework ready. It was because of dogs.
But no one took me seriously.
When you tell people you have a dog phobia they usually think you are being dramatic or a hypochondriac. Or that you are more of a cat person and just don't prefer dogs. I was once told it was because I didn't like the smell of dogs that I was acting that way. (Really?)
Every time I attempted to explain the level of fear that surrounded dogs for me, they either thought I was exaggerating, or that I was mentally disturbed.
Many people tried to get me over it by just bringing around more dogs. They just couldn't understand why I never warmed up to their dog who was so nice.
I am turning 26 soon.
Only within the last six months have I been slowly getting past my phobia.
And I can tell you exactly why.
Because my husband is willing to protect me.
I told him very early on in our relationship about my phobia of dogs. He believed me. He said he hoped to own a pet dog one day, but he never pushed me about it, and understood that it was most likely never going to happen. And he was okay with that.
On a walk with him one day, My Lovely and I were walking hand in hand, talking about nothing much, when I heard a dog nearby.
I tensed up at once . Like I always do. But I was willing to just deal with it and walk just a little faster away.
That was when I noticed that My Lovely had tensed up too. Not in fear.
I commented on it and he said that he knew I was afraid, and because I was he was always ready to protect me. That his body just got ready to protect me now when he heard a dog.
He wasn't afraid or even notice dogs most of the time. But he was just ready.
That struck me hard. I walked a good way in silence as my mind reeled from that.
Usually, if someone even recognized my phobia of dogs, they either tried to talk me out of my fear, or just ignore it and hope it went away. My Lovely didn't do that.
He wasn't afraid of dogs. He knew there was nothing to worry about. But he is there for me.
He never once made me feel silly for my feelings. He didn't try to force me to make friends with dogs. He didn't even analyze why.
My Lovely was just there for me. If I needed to be protected, he was ready. He was there for me, no questions asked. He didn't wait to see the dog and decide if it was worth a fear response. He knew I had it, and he was on my side.
There is an amazing feeling when you realize someone is there for you no matter what. No ifs, ands, or maybes. My Lovely is on my side.
If I am silly, over dramatic, mistaken, or weak. It doesn't matter. He is with me.
My Lovely acted in the exact opposite of the nightmares I had been having for years. Where people that were supposed to understand and love me saw that I was in danger and just didn't care. My Lovely knew that I wasn't, but because I thought I was, he cared and was ready.
He is on my side. He cares about me. He is willing to protect me from anything, without question.
I know this is a normal thing, and I should have kind of expected my husband to be on my side and take my seriously.
But no one ever had before. I hadn't even realized that was actually the problem. I had never felt that from anyone before.
It was earth shattering to me.
And I didn't even realize at the time that it was that exact instant that my phobia of dogs started to slowly, almost imperceptibly, start to lessen.
I started noticing those sounds that I considered warnings of death less and less. Leaves were leaves.
Then I wasn't on the lookout for dogs at every breath.
I could hear and dog bark in the distance and not go into a sweat and panic.
I started walking on more direct routes. I was still aware if there was a dog, but I wasn't at a near panic level waiting for one to just come at me.
I didn't even notice what was happening until one night I was walking home from work late, and a dog crossed the street ahead of me. Usually, at that point, I would have turned around, gotten to somewhere I felt safer, and called My Lovely to come get me because I refuse to walk that direction again.
It was dark, it was a black dog. And while I stopped, I didn't panic. I watched the dog go past. I waited until he was far enough away that I felt comfortable, then kept going. I crossed where the dog had been, his paw prints still visible in the snow, and just kept going in my direction. I was very aware of him, but it was more of a caution than a terror. I made sure he wasn't following me, he didn't seem interested in me, and I just kept going.
When I got home and in the door, I felt the shock. It wasn't shock of the dog and my, what I would have earlier believed to be a near death experience. It was shock that I wasn't all that concerned.
I had faced a fear, in the worst lighting, not knowing where the dog came from, and on my usual route. A large black dog, unleashed and roaming. My literal worst fear possible. And I still walked home. No tears, no calling for help, not even breaking a sweat. I had just watched the dog in case it was mean, and walked home.
I had to sit there and think for a while about when it had changed. When had a phobia so bad, that had haunted me for years, and caused so many panic attacks, just start to not be the first thing on my mind?
That was when I realized it was because of My Lovely and that day I noticed he was willing to protect me. I was able to start getting past a lifelong fear because someone was willing to protect me from it.
I am still cautious of dogs. A lifelong phobia doesn't disappear overnight. But I can see a dog as more than something going to kill me. I can decide if it is calm enough to approach, with permission from the owner, service vest or not.
I have pet a few dogs lately. I have even *gasp* found a couple to be cute and wanted to play with them.
I am probably still a ways off from wanting to own one. I still don't completely trust dogs, and wouldn't trust one around my kids unsupervised, as of yet. But I am slowly getting there.
I just realized what was happening. Give me some time before you surprise me with a pack of dogs at my door.
But I can see that I am getting better.
As I get healthier in other ways, it is great to see myself recognizing things for what they are and being able to get through my problems.
The dog phobia is just the most story-worthy of my changes as I get healthy, inside and out.
Husband; I love you for this eternity, the previous, and the next.
Smile Always.
