Observe The Dog Biting Your Child

“Is it just me, or is that really stupid?”

The lady gestured broadly toward the six adults chatting across the dog park. I had been thinking the same thing and found myself catapulted onto my feet like I’d been swept up at a tent revival. The open invitation compelled me to commiserate with my newly-found kindred spirit.

Minutes before, a little girl in that oblivious group’s “care” had met me at the gate. Her grabby little mitt thrust through the chain-link holes as she yelled “DOGGIE!” at my little buddy. I’ll give her credit; Lemmy is indeed a doggie. But he’s a very particular kind of doggie: the kind that doesn’t like children. Or little people. Or people with crutches or walkers. Or people who run, or seated people who then elect to stand up. Or men.

He makes a begrudging exception for me, mostly because I have treats. And I always share them with him.

Lemmy is a rescue dog. We don’t know much about his earliest experiences, as we adopted him when he was around one year old. We weren’t able to conceive a dog naturally, so it was our best option. Maybe check your privilege, okay?

We have figured out most of his quirks in the four years since then.

For example, he doesn’t like to get wet, so he hides under the bed all day if we embark upon a routine reminiscent of a Sunday, his typical bath day. He does the same anytime we touch the linen closet door, as that’s where towels are and towels are for bath time. Sure, we’re…