The regular - dogged even - readers of my blog may be familiar with the names 'Shanti' and 'Flame' as belonging to my two great canine friends with whom I currently live. I have a great relationship with dogs in general and those I encounter regularly greet me with affection and enthusiasm. I feel that I am sensitive to the moods and signals of most dogs and I engage accordingly. I rarely avoid a dog and if I do so, it is more to do with the signals they happen to be giving out than outright fear.
But it was not always such a smooth and healthy relationship!
Birthpangs
In fact, as a child and well into adulthood, I was shit scared of most dogs and would at best tolerate or ignore those who tolerated or ignored me. I didn't trust dogs. I didn't have positive associations with dogs. I didn't know dogs. Big dogs were terrifying. I was cynophobic even though I didn't know the word existed until I looked it up for the title of this post.
You see, I grew up in India and there were no animals in our household. There were stray dogs roaming the streets and there were guard dogs at gates that barked aggressively with teeth in sharp focus. I didn't really come across cuddly house pets as such, although they featured in many of books that I read and at times populated my imagination.
Through osmosis therefore, I imbibed an innate distrust and distancing from dogs, who were generally looked upon as unclean and diseased if not outright threatening. I may have visited the zoo; I may have been fascinated with animals in books; I even remember wanting an animal companion - but I never acquired direct experience of relaxed, meaningful animal companionship or company, dogs or otherwise.
Trauma
When I was around 7 years old and playing cricket with the neighbour in the driveway, a mad dog came pouncing out of nowhere and bit us!
I don't remember being bitten. Mum says my screams brought her downstairs. What I do remember is standing at the gate with a freeze-frame memory of the dog in mid-air attached to my friend's (the neighbour) arm as he tried to run away. I do not know if this was before or after I had been attacked.
the neighbour and me standing in the very spot when I was bitten, taken sometime after the event
I remember thereafter being taken to get my rabies injections everyday before school. I remember someone saying that people had beaten the poor dog to death with sticks.
Most else is blank.
What remained was an active fear of dogs.
One of Dad's closest friends, Uncle Jeff, had a Doberman named Gato - funny I know, that this hound be called 'cat' :). I'd go there regularly as a teenager, for their place hosted many all-night Bridge sessions that Dad loved to attend. We kids would play cricket in the park and pick up the takeaways that the Bridge-players had ordered up before watching a movie and going to bed.
Each time we went in or out of Uncle Jeff's first floor flat I'd have to run the Gato gauntlet and it chilled my bones. He'd bark or growl as you stepped onto his balcony through the glass door to the house or the main door to the stairs, straining at his chain or the hand that held him back. Sometimes he'd bark ferociously, other times he'd be quiet and stare menacingly. That was the worst, coz it seemed as if anything could happen and I felt like helpless prey.
Numbness
My 20s and 30s were equally devoid of meaningful animal companionship.
There was an incident in 1996, when - in my early 20s - I was teaching English in a little village in Egypt and was returning from an outing. I had to get past a pack of stray dogs, emboldened by nightfall and the fact that I was on my own. The pack usually hung around a barn on the other side of a little bridge and a few hundred metres down the track from the safety of the village. Daytime was no problem, but when dark, I would always wait for someone else before crossing. The locals seemed to have the confidence and authority to shoo the dogs off. I certainly didn't!
That evening I was on a borrowed bicycle and waiting on the other side of the bridge for someone to come along. I could see and hear the pack of dogs. They KNEW I was there!
I waited and waited and waited.
Nobody came!
In the end, I just said fukkit and got on the bike. I took a runup for speed and then pumped it over the bridge and right past the pack. Shouting at the top of my lungs and peddling as fast as I could, I had over a dozen excited, hungry dogs sprint after me, snapping at my heels.
I outpaced them and made it!
Cat-harsis
Time moved on and I approached my 40s without having had much, if any, positive direct and personal experience of animals.
I turned 40 and my life turned around. I got divorced. I began to really (? :) wake up. I fell in love and then I did so again. I had my insides gutted and hung around my neck. I started to discover that the world I'd imagined to be cast in stone was not only considerably of my own making, but also very different from Reality (whatever that may be).
During this time I met Frankie the cat, whose human moved in as my flatmate. I lived with Frankie for a year and my ignorance of animals began gradually to clear. I began to understand that communication and meaningful interaction were possible - not just with others, but with myself too! Frankie was an excellent teacher.
I thus became best friends with a cat and a line of communication had opened up between me and the animal world. This was revolutionary for me.
But I was still afraid of dogs!
Frankie
The Last Battle
The final 'confrontation' with my cynophobia came about in the Summer of 2014, on a hillside overlooking Edinburgh.
I was walking down the side and onto a big open meadow. A few hundred metres in front of me, and on the path I was on, I noticed a commotion. A dog was barking at a human who was trying to get away, clearly distressed. There was nobody else about nearby. The dog remained on the path and turned its attention towards me, still barking in what seemed like an aggressive manner.
winter view of where the 'final confrontation' took place
I was mentally stronger by this time, and had had some experience of the process of acknowledging, processing and releasing FEAR as it came up. I decided to carry on and not allow the fear to be the active driver of action.
My heart was thumping. I could feel the barometer of panic and the 'freak state' rise and fall in my Being. I was aware of the clear space just above the panic and maintained my focus there. I breathed. I allowed thoughts to pass through without sticking.
I was level with the dog by this time. It had held its ground so far but now made as if to approach closer.
I continued doing what I was doing without changing pace or rhythm, but speaking out loud this time, addressing both the dog and myself: "it's ok, we're fine, nothing's going to happen".
And it was just so!
I walked by and the dog kept barking but didn't do anything.
Aftermath
A couple of years later I moved into a house with a German Shepherd called Ronnie. She was 12 years old and only lived another 8 months after I met her. I got to love the big old bitch and mourned her death for days.
Ronnie (Rhonda)
The following Spring Shanti came on the scene and I had the pleasure of observing and partaking in the life of a young dog.
Princess Shanti at 5 months
The experience of living with Shanti - having the fun but none of the responsibility - for almost three years prepared me for when a little puppy dog called Flame burst upon the scene and into my heart.
The rest of course, is history.
Flame, my doggy partner for life and endless source of delight
TL;DR
I am 48 now, almost 49. Until the age of 41 I had had no meaningful contact with animals. I was scared of dogs, having been bitten by one when a child and only having had negative reinforcements. I finally overcame my fear of dogs when I was 42. Since the age of 43/44 I have been living with dogs and now have my own, forever doggy companion.
I cannot now imagine life without the meaningful animal contact and companionship that makes living, in my opinion and experience, a JOY!
Acknowledgement
I have recently been having some fun interactions with 