Aurora Arboralis

I just saw a very distressing incident.

A group of young people next door were sitting in the sun and chatting. The resident canine is a cute little grey fluffy thing – I almost never hear him, he’s not a barker and certainly not a yelper (wish he could give some lessons to the resident canine on the other side of my place). One of the guests had brought her new companion, a chunky-looking rottie.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The rottie had the fluffy one by the snout, and the yelping was loud and truly piteous. Two people were trying to restrain the rottie, two were trying to extract the poor fluffy; there was shouting and stumbling over garden furniture as they desperately tried to separate the dogs.

One young woman ran and got the hose, and started spraying water over the dogs. She seemed calm, deliberate – she alone wasn’t making any noise. As she hosed the rottie directly in the face, it finally broke its grasp.

The fluffy’s human gathered him up in his arms and ran inside, followed by one of the others. He was yelling “That dog has to go! That fucking dog has to go!” And repeated that very loudly from indoors several times.

The rottie’s human and another friend were trying to hold onto the rottie, and she asked the hose-wielder for the dog’s collar and leash. She brought the collar and leash over, and in response to her unheard question, the rottie’s human said, “he’s a rescue dog”.

She finally got the collar and leash onto the dog, and said, “I’m going to take him home now, but I’ll come back. Can you just find out for me how the other dog is? I’m going now, but I just want to know how the dog is.”

Anguished/angry masculine tones from inside the house were still insisting, “That fucking dog has to go!” The hose person went inside, and there were muted voices. And then the rottie and his human left.

I was so impressed with these young people.

Fluffy’s human was in such great distress, but he didn’t abuse or blame; he had to give voice to his anguish but all he said was for the other dog to go.

The rottie’s human was clearly mortified, but not defensive. That’s the thing with rescue dogs, you’re never sure what you’re getting, what they’ll do in a new situation. Once she got him on the leash and calmed down, her concern was for fluffy and his human. She stressed she was leaving, but wanted to know abut the other dog before she went.

But my greatest admiration is for the hose wielder.

Calm, practical, rendering effective assistance, with quiet sympathy. Separated the dogs; helped the rottie’s human get him under control; gently brokered their departure, buffering the anger and anguish of one, and the regret and anguish of the other.

I hope in all the violent, dreadful things that happen, I can be that hose wielder.