introspection
Talking to my parents yesterday, I think I finally figured out why I'm afraid of dogs.
(I don't know how to lj cut, so if you don't want introspective rants, just stop reading)
See, I wasn't afraid of my mother's dog, but Brother died when I was four years old. After that, the only consistent dog-related experience I had until junior high was taking walks with my parents. We live in the country, so we just need to go about a quarter of a mile to get on a gravel road with a bridge over a river surrounded by trees, which made for a lovely walk. Unfortunately, as soon as we turned onto the gravel, my parents would stop and make sure that we all had a big stick or a handful of rocks, since our walk took us past a house with dogs that would attack us if we didn't scare them away. Once we went by without arming ourselves, and my father was bitten. This only lasted a few years before the people who owned the dogs started putting them on leashes, but we still habitually armed ourselves on the gravel, since scary watchdogs are fairly common on that stretch of road. A few years later, another house on that road got a dog that was almost as big as I was, which I met for the first time when it attacked our car when we stopped in its driveway selling Girl Scout cookies. I didn't see that dog much, but whenever it was outside, it would chase me. I remember telling my friends in elementary school about the "monster dog" on the gravel road, and I think I was afraid of that road before I was afraid of dogs in general. In fifth grade, I made some new friends who had dogs, and I managed to make friends with one of them. Any progress that I made then was completely destroyed, however, when my neighbor a few doors down got two dogs that chased me every day when I rode my bike home from school. Now that my experience with dogs, while limited, tends to involve neither being taught to arm myself against them nor being chased by them, I think the fear is shrinking away.
(I don't know how to lj cut, so if you don't want introspective rants, just stop reading)
See, I wasn't afraid of my mother's dog, but Brother died when I was four years old. After that, the only consistent dog-related experience I had until junior high was taking walks with my parents. We live in the country, so we just need to go about a quarter of a mile to get on a gravel road with a bridge over a river surrounded by trees, which made for a lovely walk. Unfortunately, as soon as we turned onto the gravel, my parents would stop and make sure that we all had a big stick or a handful of rocks, since our walk took us past a house with dogs that would attack us if we didn't scare them away. Once we went by without arming ourselves, and my father was bitten. This only lasted a few years before the people who owned the dogs started putting them on leashes, but we still habitually armed ourselves on the gravel, since scary watchdogs are fairly common on that stretch of road. A few years later, another house on that road got a dog that was almost as big as I was, which I met for the first time when it attacked our car when we stopped in its driveway selling Girl Scout cookies. I didn't see that dog much, but whenever it was outside, it would chase me. I remember telling my friends in elementary school about the "monster dog" on the gravel road, and I think I was afraid of that road before I was afraid of dogs in general. In fifth grade, I made some new friends who had dogs, and I managed to make friends with one of them. Any progress that I made then was completely destroyed, however, when my neighbor a few doors down got two dogs that chased me every day when I rode my bike home from school. Now that my experience with dogs, while limited, tends to involve neither being taught to arm myself against them nor being chased by them, I think the fear is shrinking away.