Note: The picture is AI created as an illustration.
Happy Friday! (a few days late)
Today on my White Dog Walk I revisited the theme of fear addressed in an earlier post, BUT today I thought more about assessing risk which leads to fear.
Before fear has you in its icy grip (cliché alert), your mind has quickly evaluated the environment, the threat, the danger, or whatever risk that pushes your response into fight, flight, or freeze mode.
A lot of that assessment comes from data your brain has stored from previous real (or imagined) experiences.
This morning on our walk, Sitka was upset. When we got out of the car, I thought her heightened energy was simply excitement over a promised walk in a place we don’t frequent as often. I heard a steady banging in the distance, but I thought it was construction.
I was wrong.
There is a shooting range not far from the park and the constant blast of gunfire upset Sitka. Unfortunately, it took me about a mile of being dragged along the path to figure this out. My mind did not assess the threat the same as her mind did. In my experience, I recognized the steady sound of gunfire and knew it had to be a range. Sitka heard the steady shots and remembered the horrible night (week) of the 4th of July when fireworks exploded over her own yard for hours. That was danger, it was close, and ever since then she is afraid of motorcycles and “hotrod” cars revving and backfiring down our street, fireworks, or any other similar explosive loud noises. In the evening, she doesn’t want to stray far from the safety of the garage and it breaks my heart to see her so afraid now.
But I can’t erase her memory.
There was another risk assessment on our walk today. I observed how when Sitka met a cocker spaniel or a beautiful English Cream Golden Retriever, she lunged and wanted to engage in play. (Yes, I am working on stopping this behavior.) But later, when a Belgian Malinois came down the path running beside a woman, Sitka behaved and stayed in her “sit stay” until they had passed. Like me, we immediately assessed the risk of engagement, and both decided to yield the path and remain quiet. The woman, I believe, was likely more fierce and disciplined than her dog. I made this assessment as she commanded him to “leave it” when intrigued by a scrap of something on the path and the fact that she got him to run at her pace alongside her. Wow.
Sitka also gave the large German Shepherd a wide berth when we encountered him and his owner. She seems to catch a vibe from a dog (as I do with the owners) and evaluate who wants or should be left alone.
Have you ever caught a vibe from someone that made you want to cross the street to avoid them? The human version of a Belgian Malinois perhaps?
Our human danger radar is not as fine-tuned as a dog’s, but it is still there, working (hopefully) and keeping us safe. Problems arise when our past experience data is bad or when we rely too much on imagined consequences. It often keeps us from stepping out and trying new things.
Someone who was humiliated giving a talk will develop a fear of public speaking and avoid it at all costs.
Someone who pays too much attention to airplane accidents may refuse to ever fly anywhere.
What we put (or the world puts) into our experience databank can shape, limit, or save our lives. I had to sit with that thought for a while when Sitka and I got home from our “dangerous” walk.
P.S. What are these “White Dog Walks” all about? Well…
Some writers stare at a blank screen waiting for inspiration. I take a walk with a white dog.
Writers are always searching for the muse. Mine trots along on four legs, has a wagging tail, and a brilliant white coat. Folklore around the world casts white dogs as symbols of harmony, divine protection, and spiritual growth. As my dog Sitka and I wander fields, trails, and quiet country roads, ideas have a habit of appearing when I least expect them. This series is a collection of those discoveries—thoughts, stories, observations, and occasional bits of wisdom found while following a white dog down whatever path she chooses to explore.