Cones as Markers – Sunday Morning Optimism – Into the Cemetery – Mr Bernstein & Co. – The Incident – Strays Are A Lot of Work – Adina Explains – More Treats
‘Over there!’ I say to Adina, the two of us walking with Stanley through a cemetery. ‘About where that cone is.’
‘Did YOU put the cone there?’
‘No. It’s a coincidence’
I wonder if she really thinks I’m the kind of person who’d fetch a traffic cone to mark the spot where Stanley had a fight – but maybe she’s making a joke and I’m not picking up on it.
I tell her the story.
I’d come out with the dogs that morning. It was wet, so I thought we’d walk through the village first and then out to the field behind the church that might not be quite so muddy. It was a quiet Sunday morning. Both dogs were slack on the lead, trotting along beside me, noses in the air, walking with an easy kind of lope. I was feeling good, too – or better than good. I was optimistic.
We entered the cemetery through the lychgate. Suddenly, up ahead I saw Mr Bernstein and his Labrador, Bunty. I hadn’t seen either of them in months. I’d heard Mr Bernstein’s wife had died, and I wanted to see how he was and give him my best. I waved. He waved. I headed in his direction.
Lola didn’t seem bothered but I could feel Stanley tense on the lead. I stopped a little way off.
‘We’re training,’ I said to Mr Bernstein. ‘He’s not great on the lead. He’s not great OFF the lead, come to that.’
Mr Bernstein shrugged.
‘It’s a lot of work,’ he said.
Stanley began to shake. I stroked his head. I thought he might be keyed-up, seeing another dog and yet not being able to go up and sniff them and say hello. So I walked further towards them. Which is when Stanley snarled and launched himself at Bunty, his jaws coming together with an audible clack. Luckily I had a firm hold of the lead, otherwise Stanley would have taken Mr Bernstein and Bunty down like skittles in an alley. Bunty yelped – which is something I’d never heard her do before – and Mr Bernstein swore.
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ I said, hauling Stanley back.
‘You weren’t wrong when you said he’s not great,’ Mr Bernstein said. ‘That’s the thing with strays – you never know what they’ve been through.’
We said goodbye. I wished him all the best and said I’d see him around. They both stood at the crossways of the path, staring sadly after us. I half-expected to see Bunty reach out and take Mr Bernstein by the left hand, and a ghostly Mrs Bernstein rise out of the ground to take him gently by the right.
Adina is pretty clear about what happened.
‘He’s not ready for meeting dogs nose to nose on the lead yet,’ she says. ‘It’s too early. You have to build up to it. The trembling in his back legs is common. It means he’s feeling anxiety. And with dogs, when they feel anxiety, they must either run away or fight. So when you walked towards the gentleman and his dog, and Stanley had no choice where to go, he became aggressive. This is normal and to be expected.’
‘So what should I have done?’
‘I think when you saw the gentleman you should have said Hello! I’m training this dog, so I can’t come over and see you just now. But maybe I’ll see you around town? Or something like that. He would understand. And then you could just walk on the other side, and give Stanley a treat, and everything would be avoided. But don’t worry. This is typical. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.’
We walk on. I try to remember to reward Stanley with a treat every time I say his name and he looks at me.
‘Good!’ says Adina. ‘You’re both doing good.’
It feels good to hear her say it. As good as a treat.