JENNY

If you know me. If you’ve met me. You know how I feel about dogs.

It’s like any phobia – illogical

I look at dogs on Instagram and they’re cute and loving and pumped full of personality. They’re stalwart companions who bring comfort and joy to their owners. They sit by your side and sense the days when life is just tough and you need a little extra love and care. They’re full of energy and bounce. They can give people a purpose and a reason to get up in the morning. I get it. I really do. Dogs are an integral part of many people’s lives.

I’m terrified of them

To me a dog is just one breath away from wanting to tear my throat out. Or my ankles depending on the size of the dog. They growl and bark and bare their wicked teeth. They want to bite. The smaller the dog the more bitey they want to be. A big dog can maul you to death but probably won’t. A small dog will tear at your ankles and never let go. They are dangerous creatures.

That is the story my heart tells my soul

My brain tries to chime in with a little bit of logic. I can see the dogs interactions with other humans and it’s friendly and devoted. But my instincts remember. The time a German shepherd lunged at me growling and was held back by the owner. The time some black mutt lunged through the door and bit me on the stomach. The time the Maltese terrier raced out from under the bed and sunk his teeth into my ankles. The time a German shepherd knocked my dad over while he was doing his daily run. The time a German shepherd mauled my new kitten to death.

My body remembers those times and over rides the thousands and thousands of times I’ve seen the positive interactions with dogs. All those cute little Instagram reels. My instinct gets the better of me.

I have high functioning anxiety

It’s no secret and really not that high functioning to be honest but for the most part I’m pretty good these days. Dog phobia is about anxiety. The worse my anxiety, the worse my phobia.

At the peak of my mental unwellness I would cross the road if I saw a dog. If I walked past a house and a dog barked I would never walk past it again. When visiting dog-loving folk I would keep as wide a berth as possible and be sure to never touch the dog.

When you’re afraid of dogs people give unhelpful advice like, don’t be afraid! If you show fear they’re more likely to be aggressive. My dog wouldn’t bite. He just wants your attention. She’s just being protective.

As a dog fearing person let me reassure you that not one of those things is the last bit reassuring. I was still fucking afraid. And the fact the dog can sense my fear and get more aggressive just traps me in a cycle of fear.

Anxiety is not something I control

But dog phobias can be mollified a little. As my general anxiety improved I was able to tolerate dogs at a distance. I was able to visit people in their homes and start to feel vaguely safe around their little canine companions. If I can see the dog with their owner in their own happy little space I can logic myself into believing I can survive this particular encounter.

I got so good at this that I started looking after my closest friend’s dog when she went away. And then I fell in love. It happens out of nowhere and I honestly thought it would never happen again. I had been blessed with two great loves. Three just felt greedy. But greedy I am. And one thing that happens when you fall in love is that they come bundled with other relationships. Kids. Relatives. Colleagues. Friends. And yes – dogs. Well pets in general, but often dogs.

This is how I met Jenny

In order to have an ongoing, happy, healthy relationship, you have to embrace the circle that envelops them. And I have weezled my way into her circle. But you know who is central to my love’s circle? Jenny.

Jenny looks like an oversized, glossy black Labrador. She is part Great Dane and part mastiff. She is fucking huge. About the size of a small horse really. Of all the dogs in the world I might have to learn to bond with, one who is bigger than me seemed an astronomically high mountain to climb.

And yet here we are

Jenny and I have a lot in common. High anxiety. Trauma. Fear of strangers. A desire to be loved. Playfulness. Devotion. Loyalty. A never ending yearning for sleep. An unpredictable appetite. Healing. A lover of cats. A gentle spirit. A kind soul.

The first time I went to Jenny’s house she was as scared of me as I was of her. We gave each other respectful distance and eyed each other off out of the corners of our eyes. No matter what was going on, there was always an awareness of her presence. By the end of the evening, Jenny had worked her way behind me and lay her head on my shoulder. Here’s a photo of me looking the exact opposite of relaxed while Jenny lounged on me.

Apparently this is a first for Jenny. She’s known the neighbour for two years and still barks at him and runs away any time he pops over. For reasons known only to Jenny’s two little brain cells, she felt safe with me the day we met.

And now she gets excited to see me. She wags her giant tail and pounces up and down on her giant paws. Her big silky ears softly flap on her enormous head.

She takes treats from me and sits on command. I even took her for a nerve-wracking walk (I mean oh my god…. What if another dog comes near us?!) I scooped up her giant poo (I hope never to do that again.)

Now my every day involves escorting a small horse sized dog outside for her morning pee (she must have a giant bladder. It takes a while.) Or filling a big silver dish with big stinky dog food. Or playing tug of war with an almost decapitated monkey. Or cleaning up the innards of a fluffy elephant and orangutan off my lounge room floor.

Now my personal life has a black glossy observer sighing with the jealousy of feeling left out when she’s not the one entangled in the arms of the person she loves.

Now I have learned to feel (almost) safe around a protective giant pooch

I will always be tentative around barks and growls. My nervous system is trained to recognise that as a threat and my heart races a little every time. But I have found a sense of connection when I tickle Jenny under the ears or scratch her back and she leans her full 60kg up against me, begging for more attention. I feel deep fondness for her when I scratch her chest and then the moment I stop a giant paw reaches across and gently begs for more by trying to drag my hand back.

I will always be afraid of strange dogs. But giant Jenny has wormed her gentle soul into my terrified heart and now we understand each other. Jenny and I are friends.