When neurons develop unpredictably

I went to a protest last weekend. I wasn’t particularly excited to spend my Saturday standing in a crowd of people, but I know when it’s time to put my boots on the ground. I chose carefully where to plant them. I intended to meet up with friends, but I never found them. It’s possible I arrived at the wrong time although I don’t know how that’s possible given the entire event lasted an hour and a half. I stood along the edge of the road, hands jammed in my pockets, and found myself overwhelmed by rage at the people around me. It felt like a social event for them. I felt anger at the sloganization of war crimes and constitutional crises. I felt irritation at the conflation of king and dictator, the latter being more brutal in the area of crimes against humanity. I don’t think what we have is a “wannabe king” per se, but I do think he is a problem. Therefore, if I have to team up with somebody… you get it. A woman came by passing out pins. I took one and thanked her. A man in a bright yellow safety vest walked by to tell everyone to take a few steps back from the road for safety. We should be in the damn street, I thought. As I stood on the edge of the road listening to passing cars honk in unity, I silently screamed at the boomers to my right who “had to get a picture for the kids.” Why were they there? It shouldn’t matter. I should be grateful we were all out in numbers. Instead, I judged their motives. Why was I so mad?

To alleviate the rage that consumed me, I took a walk along the protest route. I chose to focus on the dogs who had been brought along to support the cause. They stood patiently at the ends of their leashes curiously examining the surroundings. If they were tall enough, I’d reach out my hand as I passed to let them get a good whiff of me. One sported a sign that read “Dogs for Democracy.” I wondered if he’d agree could he read. The dogs at the protest were the kind who enjoy a crowd. I know some dogs who couldn’t handle the stress of a protest; I know some who can’t handle a walk around the neighborhood. There’s a schnauzer on my street that loses his mind any time Ink and I pass him on our walks. He’s never been properly socialized. He barks and snarls and yanks at his leash. His owner, Sam responds to his dogs behavior by grabbing the dog’s ear and twisting it until the dog yipes. I hate this behavior. I consider it abuse. I think it shows a lack of emotional intelligence, and honestly, regular intelligence on behalf of Sam. Sam’s torture is not going to achieve his desired result. I have a hunch that Sam was traumatized by society in the same way that my own father was traumatized. I think he’s passing his pain to the dog.

We’re interrupting a dog’s natural manner of existence by making our human demands. People who are kind to their dogs understand this and plan accordingly by patiently teaching the behavior that is desired, accepting that some dog behavior is non-negotiable, and remaining open to compromise on who is privileged to the meat and cheese in the establishment. A healthy relationship requires both creatures try to share the same perspective. It works best when the language spoken is some blend between human and dog. At a nearby horse farm Ink and I walk to frequently, there are two dogs that presumably see themselves as the guards of the property and all the horses that live there. As Ink and I walk by, the dogs bark and the owner of the farm screams that they are idiots and to get inside the house. She views the noise they make as a nuisance and punishes them. I imagine this communication is confusing for the two dogs who are just trying to do their job. Inspired by what I think is the farmer’s mistake, when Ink alerts me to the presence of a passing neighbor/dog duo, I try to first meet her where she is—at high alert. I thank her for the warning. I confirm that I see them too, and let her know that I can handle things from here. I offer validation. I like to think this helps puts her dog mind at ease.

I was physically aggressive with Ink once. When she was a puppy, she’d attack our five-year-old whenever he ran. I think she was being playful or maybe she was trying to herd him, but at 30 pounds, she overpowered him easily. I had to step in to let her know this behavior was unwelcome in the home that was also providing unlimited food and tennis balls. The problem with puppies is they don’t listen to reason. One afternoon we were playing in the backyard, and she attempted to bite my youngest as he tried to get away. I grabbed her forcibly and pinned her to the ground by her neck, trying to mimic the sharp fangs of an adult dog with my fingertips. I yelled loudly and held her down as I waited for her wild eyes to slowly calm. I hated doing it. I hated using my strength to dominate another creature but, in that moment, I prioritized my kid. It was effective. Years later, she still treats him more gently than anyone else in the family.

Ink was fine, I left no scars on her physical body, but for weeks afterward I worried that the neighbor who lives in the house behind me may have seen me treating our new puppy this way and labeled me as an animal abuser. I worried about it so much that I started to believe it about myself. I started to think I should be punished. It was my neighbor’s opinion I was concerned about. Did she think what I did was wrong?

My neighbor never said anything about how I treated our dog that day. I assume she either didn’t see it, or did and didn’t have a problem with my actions. Eventually, I got over the shame of potentially abusing an animal. Ink doesn’t flinch when I reach for her and has since learned to respond to my verbal commands. I got away with it. What would have changed if my neighbor had had a different opinion? Instead of viewing my actions as necessary dog training, she could have thought my dog was too young to be treated violently. She could have advocated for my puppy and turned the neighborhood against me. Would my dog training method become abuse if my neighbor said it was? Maybe that’s how good and evil are decided. What does society tolerate?

I talked to my therapist about my anger at the protest. And as therapists do, she asked me what I wanted to do with the emotion. I hadn’t given it much thought. I know that eventually I want to let it go and so that’s what I said. I said that regardless of the reason, I want to feel grateful for the boomers who were there that day. I want to accept them as part of the force for good acting against the force of evil. She suggested I report my abuser.