My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 16th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.
This year, the SOLSC gives me a chance to record memories of our little dog, Indie, who died in January. I want to write these down while they are still fresh, so that my family and can read them later and remember not only Indie, but little slices of life across the years.
Our dog, Indie, was just under a year old, so it was fall of 2007 or maybe 2008 in Brooklyn. We had been warned, by various friends, and nearly every dog-owner’s book, that small terriers suffered from “little dog syndrome” and were notoriously snippy with other dogs—unless they were given plenty of socialization.
Socialization was not going to be a problem because we lived just a few blocks from a dog park. There were separate areas for small dogs and big dogs and I couldn’t wait to make new dog-park friends, and spend all of our spare time there. I dreamed of whiling away the time, reading a good book, sipping coffee, while my dog happily played among the pups.
I also attempted to be a perfect dog owner. I read every dog-owner advice book and website. I made sure to wait until we had started obedience school, and he knew some basic commands like “come,” “sit,” “stay,” and “look.” He LOVED obedience class and learned everything easily, so I figured we were ready for the park. Woo hoo!
We arrived at the park and I could barely contain my excitement. It was happening! After taking a peek through the gates of the small dog park, I decided Indie (at 19lbs) was too big to hang with the little dogs. So, we headed for the big dog park. I opened the first part of the gate and Indie sat patiently while I fumbled with the second part. I was so proud of him after watching another owner struggle as their very large dog barked and lurched at the owner and the gate, trying to get in. So far so good, for Indie and I.
I kept him on the leash, so he could get used to being surrounded by so many dogs. He followed me around on his leash, not pulling or anything, being such a good boy. After walking around the perimeter of the park, I paused to watch the other dogs a bit, scanning the crowd for potential bullies. Everyone was playing peacefully.
“First time?” said a man nearby. “Gotta let ‘em off the leash sometime.”
I unhooked the leash, and Indie began sniffing the ground, following a scent. Soon he found another dog’s toy and picked it up. He shook it, attracting the attention of a dog a bit bigger than him, and the other dog made a playful jump, inviting Indie to play. Indie made a move like he was about to play, but then ran away, which led the big dog to chase him for the ball. They chased around a bit and then other dogs joined in, then more dogs, and more. Soon there was a train of dogs, all chasing Indie - his little ears were flapping, and I had never seen him run so fast, flying around the park. I swear he was smiling, if dogs can smile. (They can.)
And just as I was beginning to relax a little, SNAP. Indie spun around and bit the first dog nearest him.
“NO!” I screamed running toward him, dogs barking, growling. I had an instant stress reaction to the noise of a dog fight and owners yelling at their dogs. My heart heart pounded; my head ached. Sweating and humiliated, I snatched Indie up into my arms, grateful he was small enough, and apologized profusely over the sound of the remaining dogs still barking and growling and lurching at each other. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”
I carried Indie out of the park, tail between my legs, and *never returned again.
* Except on more time, to the small dog park, just to see. It did not go well.