Re: Dogs!
dude wrote:
> Anyone else been mistaken for “the postman?”
I strongly agree that dogs can sense fear. And, I frequently cross paths with
dogs while Muniing. Whenever I see a dog coming I shift into a high pitched,
sugary voice, trying to impersonate the PBS (was it originally BBC ?) dog
training lady - Barbara Wodehouse? - and say, “Hi, doggie, hello doggie”
I’m sure I should be embarrassed by this offering, but I have been doing it for
so long that I am no longer self conscious. The net result is that I haven’t had
any trouble with dogs since adopting this strategy. I think it is the tone of
voice, and the confidence that it will work. However, I have been out when I
have passed a dog unscathed (on a uni), while a friend on a bike has been
snapped at.
The following isn’t uni-related, but definitely dog/fear appropriate.
Back in the early 1973 I biked the eastern seaboard of the US from Philadelphia
to Miami with a college friend. The total mileage of the trip, which was a bit
circuitous, was 2100 miles. My riding partner was deathly afraid of dogs. Since
we were passing through some rather rural spots we figured we would run into any
number of dogs who would be more than interested by our passing, and less than
friendly in their welcome. We decided that if we met any dogs that were inclined
to chase us we would present the fastest moving target we could manage. If any
dogs got too close we would , as a last ditch effort, shift down and spin the
cranks as quickly as possible and hope there was nothing that could easily be
bitten. But, most importantly, we would not stop out of fear or any other
emotion. Stopping, and then trying to keep our bikes between us and a charging
dog would only delay what we would have then made inevitable.
Fairly early on in the trip, riding on a small country road in Delaware near the
Maryland border, a large, and extremely angry looking German Shepherd exploded
through the hedges that screened the road from a very humble dwelling. I’m not
sure what the dog was supposed to be guarding, but didn’t seem to be quite worth
the effort. We had been fighting a nasty headwind that day (and almost every
other day, come to think of it. If you should ever decide to ride the US
Atlantic coastline, don’t do it North to South), and I was drafting on my
dog-fearing friend. When the dog first appeared he was about 15 feet away and
directly beside me, the dog skidding through the soft shoulder trying to match
our course. Despite our solemn promise to keep going and outrun all dogs, my
partner’s immediate reaction was to the jam on the brakes. My front wheel caught
my buddies back tire, as only inches separated us. My wheel took a sharp turn to
the left as my momentum carried me over the handlebars and down onto the
shoulder of the road. Fortunately, the shoulder was mostly sand and the landing,
considering the speed at which we were moving, was much less of a disaster than
I was expecting it to be. While sliding through the sand I lost track of the
fact that a huge, and rather fiendish looking dog was in hot pursuit. I had
completely forgotten about him as I lay there on the side of the road, slowly
checking to see if all of my external parts were still connected to the central
nervous system and able to move on command, until I realized that the dog was
licking the side of my face.
It was just a big, dumb, goofy dog, who showed no sign that he wanted to do
anything but play until my partner, the obstacle who had just caused me to face
plant at 20 mph, and whose every move broadcast to the world that he was sure
Cujo, there, was ready to shred him into long nasty strips, got off his bike and
started toward me. Then the dog growled, protecting me from Mr. Fear.
“Hi, doggie, hello doggie”
All the best,
John Hooten
