Safety First

My dog just started wagging his tail (OK, his stump) when visitors come to the door. This is kind of a major turnabout: anyone the least bit unfamiliar at the door has historically inspired the full Gates of Hell treatment embodied by a pointy-eared, hackled demon standing and barking explosively at the front window. In fact, our couch has been moved away from the window ever since our second round of trainers pointed out, rightly, that the dog was too charged up around the front of the house and he should be blocked from hanging out there. I may have lost some friends in the meantime; however, after almost two years of "working on it"---i.e., having him go to his place when someone's at the door, strengthening his Stay there, and turning an endless parade of visitors into hot dog dispensers---suddenly I noticed there's been a change: Laszlo hears someone at the door and wags his stump, his whole body radiating the expectation of something good.

This made me proud as punch when my girlfriend came by and my dog spontaneously modeled his new Good Dog behavior by standing on his platform the whole time; I could barely keep myself from bursting his bubble by showering praise on him. And then a couple days ago a sketchy homeless guy came to the door asking for money by way of a long and complicated con story, as is the local custom; during which time I stood at the front gate with the house door open, half of my mind ready to remove the dog from the situation since certain people, like the UPS guy, seem to be exempt from his recent attitude adjustment. It would have been a good excuse to have to go back inside, anyway. Laszlo, however, after a single, not-very-loud "wuf" and a quick stump wag, actually took the opportunity to wander back into the bedroom and curl up for a nap. What the...!?

"Why did you get a Doberman Pinscher?" those same trainers had asked me. They sensed there was more to it all than met the eye, and they were right. I don't think I gave them a good answer, but if I had been able to be honest with myself I would have said, "Because I need to feel safe. I am freaked out in my house. I feel powerless. I want to put a demon between myself and my fears."

And Laszlo did exactly that. And after two years of walking my dog around the hood at all hours, two years of fearlessly opening the door to strangers because my dog was right there, apparently Hell's gates no longer need a guardian. I feel "safe." Nothing is really different: intellectually I know while Laszlo may be helpful, a dog isn't going to deter all the world's perils. I am aware how much of an illusion safety is: in my neighborhood where gunshots remind you how life balances on a needle's point, or snugly in the 'burbs, it's a feeling, nothing more. It was at that moment I realized the true achievement: I did not feel any fear talking to the sketchy homeless guy. Which is why Laszlo did not feel any fear. His job is done. My job now is to stop needing the demon; to hold that awareness that I can feel safe on my own. My job is to keep him retired.

As my friend Sang sagely pointed out, "Now you're going to have to teach him to bark at strangers." That should be fun for both of us.