There's no way to sugarcoat it: The Doodlebug has gone rogue.
My goofy, doofy mess of a boy has always had some issues. He has an unnaturally high sensitivity to any number of sounds, doesn't like being hugged and, generally, tends to find the world to be a bit too big for his liking. For the most part his issues are a bit annoying, but within the confines of our day-to-day life, no biggie. Until this past weekend, when he decided to add one more to his list: snapping.
Yes, my floppy dog snapped at someone. Actually, two "someones". Both times, they were people who were in our home who he was not familiar with, and on both occasions it happened when they reached out to pet him while I wasn't looking. To say that I'm appalled is an understatement. I've known Darby to many things over his six years but I've never, ever been concerned about him hurting someone --- and definitely not someone identified as a "friend". We've had people over many times before, both singularly and in groups and although he has been tentative with folks he didn't know, he has never behaved this poorly.
I'm taking it very hard, especially as a blogger who reads about the adventures of other, seemingly perfect pups who appear to glide around society like a southern belle at a perpetual debutante ball. I know Darby will never be one of
those dogs, but he can't be this dog, either.
I've spent the past couple of days turning it over in my head. Is it because something changed in his doodle brain now that I'm home all the time? Is he picking up on my frustration with a recurring medical condition I have and trying to take it out on someone else? Did he sneak into the living room after we went to bed and watch part of
Cujo (obviously missing the end) and think he's a role model?
After a short period of self-flagellation, which is almost as productive as it sounds, I've decided the trigger doesn't matter nearly as much as rewiring his funky little brain so it doesn't happen again. For now, the little dude will have his
security blanket leash attached to him when anyone who isn't positively bomb-proof comes over. For Darby, the leash has thus far been the equivalent of a
Thundershirt, so we'll start there and work his way back to being the dog we expect him to be.
It goes without saying that if anyone else wants to 'fess up about a less-than-wonderful issue your dog has, you'll never find a more sympathetic audience than this corner of the blogosphere...