Every Dog Gets One Free Bite

My friend Libby called me on Sunday night to see how I was doing. She had just read my latest blog about Yasha and said she was all choked up and wanted to know how we (Yasha and I) were doing. I love Libby. She is one of my new friends that Lena set me up with as a result of her friendship with Libby’s daughter. Libby was born and raised in NYC and somehow ended up in Juneau practicing law for the State. I have always been intrigued by people who are able to move to Alaska and choose to stay here, not because of the “harsh environment” but because of the “harsh reception.” As Alaskans, we pride ourselves on our hospitality and friendliness, but I find a lot of Alaskans judge transplants before getting to know them and that mentality drives me crazy. What I’ve discovered is that most of the people who are doing the judging are transplants themselves and they are still out to prove themselves as someone who can “hack” living here. What I find most amazing is I don’t think anyone needs to be owning bragging rights about living in Juneau, or any place in SE for that matter. Juneau has several grocery stores, a few commercial flights in and out every day (weather permitting), we are always guaranteed a few hours of daylight (even if it’s sheltered through clouds), we have doctors and veterinarians, we get fresh produce (though not always the best), and God Almighty, we have high speed internet. Living in Juneau is not like living in Alakanuk or Gambel. I don’t know how long I could hack it there and I’m a lifelong Alaskan. Now, I admit to being turned off by Libby’s husband’s New York Yankee’s Hat the first time I saw him wearing it, but I decided to let it slide because I really liked his wife. I like Geoff too, he is a nice guy and a great cook who often feeds me.

Libby is a straight shooter and has the best advice for everything. Really, she does. I just wish I listened and always took her advice. I have never been good at following advice from others and typically remain polite and give a stressed smile and nod my head. With Libby, I actually do take what she says with a grain of salt. That’s why when Libby asked me what I was going to do with Yasha, I was really curious to throw it back at her and ask her what she would do. Libby is not a pet person. It’s not that she doesn’t like them, she just physically can’t be around them due to severe allergies. I’m not talking the annoying puffy eye allergy and sneezing fits. I’m talking Anaphylactic shock where she can’t breathe, her eyes bulge out of her head and her skins turns into a violent hell storm rash. She came to my house once and lasted about an hour before I sent her home booting her and her inflamed skin out my door. Now she drops her daughter off at the door. I was interested in hearing Libby’s take on the dog situation, mostly because she doesn’t know Yasha all that well, and she sends her daughter over to our house on a regular basis to play amongst what could now be viewed as a vicious beast of a dog. Libby basically said, “Look, Yasha obviously felt threatened by you and thought you were going to kick her. She was being protective of herself just as you or I would have been if we thought someone was going to kick us. Putting her down for this would not be the right choice.” And then she said it, “Every dog gets one free bite.”

Then there was my father's opinion. My father, who adores my dog, gave quite a colorful rant on how he would have killed Yasha right then and there. Dad really loves Yasha, he loves her so much that once on a week long halibut trip, he rowed Yasha to the beach each morning and night so Yasha could go to the bathroom because Yasha refused to go on his boat out of respect. My dad loves my dog, but he loves me more.

I started thinking about it and Yasha went 7 years without biting anything other than her stuffed toys. She doesn’t bite the cat when he pounces on her head and bites her ears. She didn’t bite the pit bull that knocked me down while I was 8 months pregnant with Lena. And she didn’t bite the freak that touched my leg in the fair office. She also, not that I am aware of, hasn’t bitten the people who live behind me who I am almost 100% sure have harmed her making her terrified of them. Not much terrifies Yasha and she pretty much loves everyone. If my house is ever robbed, Yasha will gladly let them in and show them where all the valuables are kept. But there is something about the trash burning Quonset Hut dwelling neighbors living off a single extension cord that scares the living daylights out of her. She’s not so afraid that it stops her from going up and nosing through their garbage burn pile, but whenever I see her interact with the owners, she is frightened of them. I have never had a bad interaction with them, in fact, they recently dropped off a bunch of wood at the house and they once stopped by to tell me my renter left his headlights on. But each time they come to the door, Yasha wedges herself carefully between me and them and acts extremely skittish to each move they make. When they leave, she sits at the door and growls for quite some time. Either she has seen things up there that she knows are bad, or she’s been directly impacted by something bad.

Yasha is the third dog to bite me. The first was a Doberman Pinscher named Kona who bit me on the ear when I was a little girl. Kona had bitten before and no one seemed all too concerned by it as my ear bled like a stuck pig. My dad was there and he didn’t even kill the dog with his bare hands. The second was a German Shepherd with a bad attitude who jumped over a fence on 2nd Avenue in Ketchikan as I was walking by minding my own business. That dog had bitten several people and everyone knew it was a terror, but it was not put down. Then there is my very own dog who I worked long hours with as a pup training her not to bite, rubbing her gums with my fingers because that was supposed to “calm her urge” to chew/bite as a puppy.

As humans, we do stupid things all the time. Whether it’s say nasty things to one another or even deck someone in the face. Some of us still haven’t learned from these mistakes and continue to inflict harm on each other be it verbally or physically. We have been given second chances, third chances, so on and so forth. Which is why I want to give Yasha a second chance. This doesn’t mean I’m not going to be making some changes. First the kids need to know that we need to treat Yasha a little differently. She can’t be hung on like she used to be which means dress up is probably out of the picture. They also will need to leave any and all disciplining of her to an adult. Sometimes Yasha still gets excited and inadvertently knocks over a kid en route to the door or her dinner bowl. In the past, Lena or Aurelia would scold her tell her to watch it, but they can’t do that anymore. And, when we have other kids over, Yasha will spend some quality time in a bedroom or the shed with a chewy bone. Lastly and probably most important, Yasha got a wellness exam at the vet yesterday. She is now on anti-inflammatory medication to help with her terminal neck pain. This will hopefully make her less protective of her body. I can’t ignore what happened, but also can’t end her life based off what she interpreted as a threat to her body.

On another note, I am off crutches. I’m probably not ready to be yet, but I threw a riggin’ fit on Monday after having to crawl over a snow berm during rush hour traffic in downtown Juneau. My crutches sunk in 3 feet deep and I sunk along with them. In my attempt to dig my way out, I fell over and did a face plant in the berm. I dug out a crutch and started to throw it into the Goldbelt parking lot in a fit of rage while cursing up a storm when a taxi driver pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride. I thanked him and told him I had one, I was just trying to reach it. He drove away and then came back and said, “I wasn’t going to charge you, you know.” Kindness in strangers is alive in Juneau. Friends also offered to be my chauffer, which I really appreciate, but I’m good to go. I drove myself to work on Tuesday and am hobbling along. My foot is still pretty sore, but it’s definitely getting better.