Cynophobia

I’ve recently developed a fear of dogs. A sweaty palms and pits, heart palpitations, fight or flight reflexes (I’ve discovered I’m a flight kind of girl), adrenaline rushing, type of fear. I’m very used to being made fun of for my random list of terrors: birds, cats, squirrels, mice, and now dogs. Why can’t I be afraid of spiders and snakes like a normal person? The only people I know that are afraid of dogs are children who haven’t been around them enough or have had a bad experience. And even then, they all seem to grow out of it.

My nephews used to be terrified of their cousin Bruizer (an American Staffordshire Terrier), and it is quite entertaining. Jet couldn’t speak very well at the time, but he would be strolling along until he noticed Bruizer within 100 feet. And then he screeches to a halt. You could see his eyes get huge and his little brain start working triple time. You just knew that he was planning out his escape route. It was genuine fear, and I am ashamed to say that I would set him up in situations with Bruizer just to see his cute panicked reactions. Just to clarify, Bruizer would never harm a fly. I know dog owners that lead with this usually have mean dogs, but I’m not even his owner. I think Jet was in his path once when Bruizer was spastically going after a laser, and he knocked him over on accident. But it was game over from there. So, I would help Jet start to face his fears by coaching him through petting his tail and working up to his face. As soon as he saw those big teeth though (Bruizer is the most smiley dog I know), he would retreat back to his corner and scowl at his cousin.

I’ve decided I’m now getting the bad karma from taking advantage of Jet’s terror. Because, Jet is now completely over it while I’m all of a sudden shrieking in panic when a puppy wags his tail at me.

The reason behind this newfound fear is all to be blamed on Grenada. And driving a scooter in Grenada. There are hundreds of dogs here, called pothounds. The most fitting definition of a pothound I could find is “a mongrel dog”. They all look like they are flea-infested, and carrying 13 different diseases. I even saw one dog that had gross, long, saggy teats accompanied by a nice pair of droopy balls. Yes, my first hermaphrodite dog. Do yourself a favor and DO NOT GOOGLE THAT! Nightmares.

You know that feeling you get when you’re running up the stairs from your basement, convinced something is chasing you, but you can’t look back or else you’re gonna die? Try being chased by an angry mutt while driving a scooter. It’s way worse, I promise you. I’ve been classically conditioned to dread seeing dogs. I started sweating bullets when I saw a rock that looked like a dog. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been t-boned by a dog while on a scooter with my friend Mika back in Utah. The little bastard came out of nowhere and was at a dead sprint when he rammed us like a bull. It took all of Mika’s effort not to crash us and we just kept driving. I’m not confident enough in my scooter driving skills to know that I would survive another attack like that.

I abused my husband yesterday because of it. I actually hit him. He thinks my panic is funny, I guess, so I had to teach him that it’s not a laughing matter (we have a really healthy relationship). We passed a pack of dogs and he slowed down and started whistling at them so I would get nervous. I punched him in the side as hard as I could and called him a dumbass. For the purposes of this blog, there were not any f-words placed in front of dumbass that I can recall. But if there were, they were deserved. (So, maybe I do sometimes react with fight instead of flight). Fear brings out the worst in people. Good thing I couldn’t reach his face, or he would have a black eye right now.

Don’t try and tell me that it’s so much worse on a mission, because Billy told me how bad it was in Mexico City. The difference is that for some reason, they love chasing scooters. They may be completely friendly dogs when you drive by in a car or jog past them. But scooters bring out their aggression, I swear. The dogs on Billy’s mission were treated like crap. They were constantly being abused and tormented. People would throw rocks at them. As a missionary, if a dog started to get too threatening, he would just bend over to pretend like he was picking up a rock and that would send the dogs running away. I think it’s the same story here. But I’m at a disadvantage on my scooter because I can’t really take my hands off the handlebars. I could try and kick at the little buggers, but I’m pretty sure I would just topple over, or they would bite off my leg. I may need to learn how to drive with one hand on the gas and the other on a machete.

So, this whole blog post is to get my readers to pray that I don’t crash my scooter and get eaten by a Grenadian pothound. And pray that I don’t murder my husband for tormenting me.

And to show that there are people crazier than I am, please watch this video. I first saw it in my Abnormal Psych class and it was that moment that sealed my fate from ever pursuing a career in Psychology because I couldn’t stop laughing. I still can’t. The funny stuff starts at 30 seconds and goes until about the 2 minute mark.

And here is a picture of my dog bite. Just kidding, this is my scooter burn and the reason I look like a gimp in most of my pictures. Do you know how hard it is to keep a burn clean when you are always going to the beach? I mean, my life is just so hard sometimes.

 Enjoy your breakfast!