My Training Partner is a Jerk

My training partner is a jerk. He’s also one of the biggest reasons I still train. When I first met my training partner in 2004, I was an occasional runner who lacked motivation. With his constant enthusiasm and insistence, I’ve morphed from a couch potato (search my high school Facebook photos for proof) into a regular runner, who 1 year ago managed to complete a marathon. For the past 4 years, I’ve had tons of great training partners and friends. People who have encouraged me and pushed me and helped me get to a place that I can imagine that an Ironman is possible. I’ve also had my one constant training companion who hasn’t left my side.

When I adopted Starbuck in 2004, I thought I was a pretty active person – I was wrong. Suddenly I was forced outside every day because if I didn’t give in to a run, bike, ski or something, Starbuck would make my life miserable by howling at me and pulling on my pant leg. After almost 5 years of trying to keep up with the beast, I’ve cut my run times down and upped my personal odometer. I’ve also developed an enormous love for my furry little partner and a ferocious dedication to a creature that has become my fur-baby.

There are a million things that I love about Starbuck: he chases his tail upon command which is a wonderful little party trick, he snuggles with me when I cry, he is excited to see me every day when I get home, he keeps me company when Tony’s gone, he never runs away and he forces me outside when I’d rather just watch television. Starbuck was my very first friend in Whitehorse. During my first winter here, when I had no-one to hang out with and spent most evenings crying due to a lethal combination of Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder and loneliness, adopting him in February was what kept me sane and in the Yukon. In the weeks leading up to my wedding, when stress and exhaustion made me want to curl up and die, instead I’d lie on the couch with my face buried in his fur.

Despite a puppyhood filled with hyperactivity that has not been seen since…well, to be honest, my childhood, Starbuck has learned to relax over the last year. He is content lying on the couch and hanging out in the garage; and while a good run, bike or ski is still needed occasionally, he no longer vocalizes his constant desire to be in motion.

Although I love Starbuck dearly, he has one character flaw that drives me to the brink of insanity and leaves me feeling helpless and angry. My dog is a jerk. I can’t think of any other word that describes him more accurately. He is the dog that thinks that all sticks in the forest belong to him, and makes sure that other dogs know it. He bullies our friends’ dogs in the same way a 13-year old school bully picks on the nerds (and I was a nerd, so I remember what this was like). If dogs are in the house, he will force them to sit in a corner, not letting them move around freely. If a dog dares to ignore his warnings or commands, he is quick to flip them over and growl in their face.

I try to think about this logically: dogs are pack animals with a hierarchy, it’s a natural part of their behaviour to determine dominancy. But, lets face it…my dog’s a jerk. The good thing, is that 99.9% of his jerkiness is reserved for his home on his turf. Something that I have a fairly easy time controlling – if friends’ dogs are in the house, the jerk is usually on the deck. Although having a jerk for a dog helps to curb friends’ desires to bring their own puppies over for a visit. Unfortunately for 0.1% of the time, Starbuck is a jerk to others. Last night after enjoying an outing where we passed numerous dogs and their owners, we were about to finish when we encountered a dog that for whatever reason didn’t appeal to Starbuck. The two dogs got into a small fight, that ended with me grabbing Starbuck and my cycle of Starbuck related angst re-started.

The thing about a dog fight that is so frustrating is that there is no way to have a conversation with your dog. Following the fight, Starbuck just wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue. In fact, given the opportunity, I think he would have liked to have gone for a quick run with his former playground foe, as whatever had upset him seemed to have been replaced with a desire to have fun. I’m left anthropomorphizing my dog in a desperate attempt to figure out how this might not be 100% attributed to my failings as a dog mother. The rest of the night was left with me feeling: mad at my dog, guilty that I threatened my dog with a permanent trip back to the shelter, sad that I have failed my dog so monumentally, horrible that my dog fought, scared that the other dog owner is angry at me and all around exhausted by what was supposed to be a relaxing walk in the woods. All I want in the world is to be able to sit down with Starbuck, explain why fighting is not appropriate, repeat my favourite daycare mantra of “use your words when you are mad” and receive a commitment that it won’t happen again. Despite my efforts with this type of conversation, all that I get is a head cocked to the left and a retrieved hat (a trick that’s somehow gone terribly wrong). I can’t help but wonder what kind of mother I will make, when my dog can send me into an emotional tailspin. I remember life at the daycare – imagine what I’ll do when it’s my toddler in the playground biting his friends.

For now, I’m considering moving me and my dog far away to a secluded cabin where we can live out our lives in solitude without the stress of socialization. I’m also going to emotionally prepare for the potential comments re-iterating what I already know is true – the dog’s not the problem…the owner is.

Sierra posted this on Dec 04, 2008 from the doghouse | | permanent link