I was at a sheepdog trial recently when a friend reminded me of an incident from long ago that I described in For the Love of a Dog: Understanding Emotions in You and Your Best Friend. Here’s the text:
At first, all I saw was a white blur out of the corner of my eye. It was a long way away, maybe 500 yards, and initially I wasn’t sure what it was. Most of my focus was on my Border Collie Luke, who was running his fastest about two hundred yards away. I’d sent him on a long outrun toward a flock of sheep during a “fun day,” when herding enthusiasts get together and revel in dogs and sheep and the sloppy kisses of young puppies.
Many people there that day were serious competitors in herding dog trials, and were grateful for the opportunity to hone their skills away from home. Luke and I, however, were there just to play. Luke was too old to compete in trials, so we went for the pure joy of it. We loved working together, Luke and I, finessing sheep gently and quietly across the countryside. A classic workaholic, Luke loved working sheep so much he had no interest in food, tennis balls or even bitches in heat when there was a job to do. For me, watching my trustworthy, black and white dog doing a perfect outrun on an emerald green hill made my heart get bigger and my soul feel full. That’s how I was feeling that morning as I watched my good, old dog run perfectly and reliably toward the woolies on the far hill.
But all my feelings changed as I realized the white blur running toward Luke was a hundred and twenty pound working Great Pyrenees, who had escaped temporary confinement and was barreling down on Luke to protect his flock. We were on a large, isolated farm with several dispersed flocks of sheep—a smorgasbord to the coyotes and stray dogs that commonly roam the countryside. Many of us in southern Wisconsin need working guard dogs to keep our flocks safe, and this farm had two of them. Unlike my guard dog, Tulip, who now protects the farm from the living room couch, these dogs lived exclusively with the flock, and were serious to the bone about killing anything that threatened their sheep.
As I watched the guard dog run toward Luke, my feelings of joyful fulfillment shifted to those of abject terror. The thought that I was about to watch my dog being attacked and possibly killed overwhelmed me. Purely and simply, I love Luke so much it almost hurts. In Dog is My Co-Pilot, a book of essays about why we love dogs so much, I said about Luke: “And I still love him so deeply and completely that I imagine his death to be as if all the oxygen in the air disappeared, and I was left to try to survive without it.”
Horrified at what I thought was about to happen, I screamed, “THE GUARD DOG IS OUT, THE GUARD DOG IS OUT.” Stating the obvious wasn’t going to solve the problem, but it seemed to be all I could do. For the longest second imaginable, my mind was a black hole, as if my emotions had sucked away the rational part of my brain and left a cavernous skull full of, uh, nothing. I can remember that feeling of terror now, and can visualize the scene as if in a photograph: emerald green pasture, black and white Luke in full stride just where he ought to be, and a white bullet of doom streaking across the grass toward him.
But what of Luke? What went through his mind as he dashed through the grass with a canine hitman running toward him? Was he as scared as I was? And if he was, how much did his version of being scared resemble mine?
This segment is from the chapter that introduces emotions, in a book that is all about emotions in us and dogs–what we know about what’s shared and what’s not, at least so far. (A lot.) But what I’m wondering about right now is the concept of “going blank,” or being so frightened or stunned that your brain goes on hold and there’s nothing going on inside of it. (Or nothing perceptible.) It’s a common symptom of PTSD (see The Education of Will), but it happens to most of us on occasion.
I have two related questions: First, have you gone blank when something happened with your dog? If so, I hope you are forgiving yourself for it, no matter how it all got resolved. I was stunned into inaction more recently when someone assaulted Skip, and I have had to do some serious work to forgive myself for it. I’ve found that many of us who love dogs so deeply are often hard on ourselves for not being perfect. It helps to have spent decades assuring clients that they can throw away the guilt they feel for that one moment in which they didn’t react in time. Yup, we’re all human.
But second, and admittedly unanswerable at the moment, does this happen to dogs? Are dogs stunned into inaction and blank brains by something that frightens or confuses them? We can only guess, but I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t happen to them too. As I talk about in For the Love of a Dog, so much of the system that powers our emotions are similar in dogs and people. (But see How Emotions are Made by Lisa Feldman Barret.)
We all know it’s too easy to misinterpret why a dog does what it does. So often we assume willful disobedience, as if dogs are in complete and full control over all of their responses. (When we are supposed to be, you know, the “smarter ones.”) I’m wondering here if certain types of “disobedience” are situations in which a dog simply can not respond, because it is stunned, just like we can be.
Here’s one example, that’s not quite perfect but still relevant and perhaps illustrative: I have learned not to ask Maggie to do anything at all when she is first let out into a new environment. She is simply not capable of doing anything until she has spent time using her nose to adapt to where ever she is. I’m not sure that this is truly a version of being “stunned,” because she’s not immobile and I doubt that her brain is blank. But, there is no room in it, no room at all, for anything other than finding a way to center herself with her nose, and to a lesser extent, her eyes.
What about you? Any examples? Ponderings? I’d love to hear what you think.
And what about Luke all those years ago, at risk of serious injury from a no-holds barred guard dog? He was fine, because my friend, whose brain was working just fine, quietly said “Down your dog.” I did, and he hit the ground like a marine in boot camp and stayed still while I crooned “Stay there, stay there.” The guard dog ran up, sniffed Luke who remained motionless, and trotted away. Crisis averted.
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Just back on the farm from a short but heavenly vacation to Acadia National Park in Maine. Yup, it’s all it is cracked up to be: Gorgeous, fascinating and inspiring. (And yes, busy, but it was relatively quiet if you go out in the morning and avoid the crowds in the towns.) We had a lovely time on two Acadian Nature Cruises, one in the morning and one on their sunset trip. We saw lots of seals, including these Grey Seals who, after I took this, left the rocks to come check us out.
If you look REALLY closely you can see a Bald Eagle on the grey scaffolding in front of the roof of the small building to the right of the lighthouse. Our guide mentioned she was surprised there were so few gulls on the island (Egg Island), and then discovered that eagle and 4 immatures on the other side of the house. Gulls and eagles are not friends, thus the lack of other birds.
The entire park is a wonderland of massive granite cliffs, gorgeous trails and ridiculously beautiful views. The photo below is from the top of a small mountain, the South Bubble, overlooking Jordan Pond and the ocean beyond:
We took an easy route up, but ended up scrambling down a steep, boulder-filled “trail” that was about two degrees beyond my ability. But we made it down, and finished with a second hike around Jordan Pond, one of my favorite hikes in the park. Here’s a boardwalk on part of the west side, brilliantly designed, along with impressive work using large rocks to funnel water into the lake from the hill above.
We stayed in a B & B well outside of Bar Harbor that had a stairway down to the beach. Since the tide there is 12-13 feet, you can’t get very far at high tide. But we got down several times at low tide, and marveled at the granite cliffs and tunnels within them. This is dear friend Melissa McCue McGrath of Considerations for the City Dog and BewilderBeats podcasts, fame, who met us with her daughter Ace for part of the trip.
We also got to go hiking and spend time with Jim’s son Zach and partner Sarah, two mountain goats disguised as humans who could hike anywhere, anytime and not be tired. Here are us old folks, who had sore legs after two days of hiking, but were still in heaven to be in such a beautiful place. (Do you think I’m going to make “tucking your pants into your socks to keep them dry” fashionable?)
One day we got a reservation (necessary) to drive up the highest mountain, Cadillac Mountain, famous for amazing views. Here’s the view we got:
Yeah, pretty much a white out. But we’re glad we went, because it was just so damn funny and we enjoyed laughing with the others up there who hadn’t gotten the memo either.
Here’s what we got to see the next day, same location:
Now we’re home, soooo glad to see the dogs! Tell us if the phenomenon of “blank brain” or being stunned resonates with you, and what you think of my suggestion that it might happen to dogs too. I’m all ears.
Bruce says
I have not (yet?) really gone blank when something happened to one of my dogs, but I can remember feeling r-e-a-l-l-y s-l-o-w. For example, dog and I rounded a turn while walking through thick woods and practically tripped over a youngish deer. Dog and deer reacted instantly; I felt like my brain was walking through chest-deep molasses. Fortunately all ended well, dog eventually responded to recall, and no deer were harmed.
Hard to say whether dogs go blank under stress, but they seem to respond more instinctively than humans to threats that fall within their evolutionary history. In contrast, I have seen dogs freeze when confronted by unnatural “threats” such as people in animal costumes or other human-created oddities.
Wow, Acadia National Park looks gorgeous! Adding that to my list of places to visit for sure.
lak says
OH those photos! Many years ago I spent a beautiful week in Acadia National Park and have never forgotten the sites or experiences! Your photos bring it all back! Thank you
Martin says
My own mind goes blank all too often, and not just from fear/panic. Over-stimulation, sleep deprivation, unexpected social situations (like, someone crossing a line when it didn’t occur to me that that was even a possibility), and depression can all cause it, too. As a teenager, anger/rage did it, too.
In terms of dog-related events, it happened when a trainer suddenly grabbed my then-service dog’s face, put her own face right up close and screamed “no” at him. He hadn’t done anything wrong whatsoever, she just wanted to demonstrate how I should correct him if ever did misbehave. I would never have imagined that she would behave like that, otherwise I would have never gone to see her that day. I couldn’t process what was happening fast enough, and my mind stayed blank for quite a bit after it. Eventually, thinking became possible again, but coming up with a response took far longer than the appointment lasted. But this wasn’t fear/panic, but a lack of processing capability.
The dog in question, a golden retriever named Drifter, also seemed too surprised to have a reaction. Luckily, he wasn’t traumatized by the incident. He seemed to forgive and forget any unpleasantness instantly, filing it away as an accidental transgression from silly humans who just don’t know any better. Seeing as they provide treats and cuddles, it’s just not worth getting upset by their inadequate social skills. (Which made any kind of punishment ineffective anyway.) Of course, that’s just my interpretation of his behavior; his actual thoughts and emotions could have been very different.
Nanuk flips out in certain situations. He’s gotten better in the 8 1/2 months I’ve had him, but there are still situations that launch him over threshold, especially concerning other dogs. He gets so frustrated that it sure seems like he’s incapable of any kind of thought. It’s not just that he barks and jumps against the leash – he doesn’t seem capable of doing anything else. I’m fairly sure that if I could teach him that pushing a huge blue button would instantly transport him sans leash to the other dog and said button was right before his nose, he still wouldn’t be able to press it.
I’ve heard of dogs that become frozen with fear during thunderstorms, who don’t react to anything whatsoever for the duration of the storm. If those descriptions are accurate, I doubt those dogs doing a whole lot of thinking.
Charlotte Kasner says
Isn’t this the “freeze” of fight, flight and freeze?
Also is this the Bar Harbour of Scott and Fuller fame?
Looks heavenly.
LisaW says
I can’t recall if my brain went blank ;-0
I don’t think it has blanked with the dogs, but it has in other momentary points of crisis. Like the time we were renovating a house, and I thought I had one more course of vinyl siding to pull off before I had to disconnect the 220 outlet. Wrong! Big shock, small flame, melting siding with a paper backing. Poof, big flame! I ran outside yelling, “Fire! Fire!” My partner came running around the corner of the house, and we ran smack into each other! I was stunned to the ground and my brain went blank. I had to collect myself enough to run to the corner store (we had no phone, and cell phones weren’t a thing yet) and stammer out, fire, fire, call, call. It all ended well, very little damage, but a lot of head shaking from our neighbors.
We were in Maine last week, too! So good to be back, and we went when many of the tourists had left. Bailey Island and Camden for us. Visiting old friends, hiking along the Giant Stairs, swimming (brrr), eating lobster rolls, and hearing the waves crash all night. Olive got some good hikes and swims in and spent much of the time napping. It actually was one of our better trips in a long time. Go Maine! as the signs say.
Ridge Euler says
I have “blank brain” often, but Peggy my assistance dog normally shakes it off. She’s great indoors! However if we go to a new outdoor location, I too have to just let her have a little sniffari before she will be able to follow simple cues.
Jean Smith says
I was quickly reading through your post hoping you’d tell us the outcome! I was so worried! Thanks for the post! We went to Arcadia last fall and our view from Cadillac mountain was the same as yours!!! We’ll have to try it again someday! Besides I love all the clam chowder or lobster bisque I can find!
Mary Beth Stevens says
oh gosh, does this post ever bring back memories…we were at an off-leash beach, enjoying a beautiful day, when seemingly out of nowhere a dog attacked my dog Tippy. It was a big dog, and Tippy was pinned underneath him. All I remember doing is screaming. And screaming, and screaming and screaming. Eventually Tippy got away, but we were in an unfamiliar area and Tippy ran off into tall beach grass and weeds. Honestly, I thought I would never see him again. The worst part of it all was that the other dog’s owners said nothing to me, and a person who was with them proceeded to act as if there was something wrong with ME! “Why are you yelling like that? What’s wrong with you?”. And more in that vein. Honestly, it was like the Twilight Zone. Eventually I came to my senses, eventually I found Tippy and got him to the vet, all the while experiencing a verbal onslaught from this woman who was simply appalled at my “behavior.” I never got an apology, no one volunteered to help me look for Tippy, and once I found him, no one volunteered to call my vet with their credit card number, etc. All the things that a responsible dog owner SHOULD do if their dog initiated an attack. Fortunately Tippy was fine, but honestly, I count it one of my life’s top 10 bad experiences – not least because it showed me that I can be incapable of constructive action in the middle of a terrible crisis…
Beatrice says
Hi There,
I can connect to Bruce’s comment.
There was one situation where I was just too slow.
I am still grateful my dog is save with me at the moment.
In that situation, I had him only a couple of weeks and I learned the hard way my dog wouldn’t keep his distance from very big trucks.
It ist imprinted in my brain like the situation Trisha recalls so very precisely.
He was running of leash towards the highway (rush hour, of course). Me, so very slow, after him, screaming his name, HIER (a signal I just started to train) and finally STOP (a signal he didnt know at the time) on the top of my lungs
He wasn’t responding.
Fortunaley, he went towards the water running underneath the highway.
I could collect him drinking only two feet away from the trucks passing the highway.
I was shaking all the way back.
Although I only put him on short leash and walked away, he turned on his heels and came towards me the next day, as I tested if the signal STOP would give me any response from my dog.
Anyways- I prefer training situations without that amount of adrenaline!
Barbara Niederreiter says
I did witness a dog going blank. It was my first Tibetan Mastiff female, Amida. She was still young, I think ca. 1 year old at that time. We went for our evening walk on the field behind our house and at one point I realized that Amida is not with us any more. I called her several times, searched the field, but it was getting dark and I didn´t have any light with. So I took my two other dogs back home, fetched the torch and returned to the field. It took me good 1/2 hour to find her standing like a statue behind some brambles with her eyes fixed on the cows. She didn´t respond to the light or sound when I called her, I had to go to her and touch her to wake her up. She was so incredibly happy to see me as never before or after. I guess that cows scared her out of her mind.
Doug Harris CPDT - KA says
I love your work and reading the comments from all your followers!
I was born in Pittsfield MA been in all the New England States.
Thank you
Happy Paws
Doug
Doug Harris CPDT - KA says
Oops forgot to say your photography was great! Photography has been my serious hobby since I was 11 years old, the first camera was a Brownie Hawkeye.
Maureen C Finn says
Yes, blank brain way too often here – Squirrel!
And yes, I agree the dogs can get stunned into inaction as well. A different topic, but dovetailing nicely with this, is the overwhelm factor we see so often in our rescue dogs. I always tell our adopters to SLOW DOWN those first days, let the dog experience and settle the new home with as few distractions as possible. Their nose is about the only thing they trust at that point, and it gets a workout. Sounds, then sight, come in more slowly, and the dog will begin to be able to respond fully in a few days.
In one memorable story–which I share with new adopters regularly to illustrate my point–is of a dog we got into foster from a very isolated life (doubt he got out of his back yard much).
On the first or second day, the foster home let us know that the dog had eye issues – maybe not fully blind, but there was definitely sight loss. He based this on the fact that the dog looked at some deer in the guys back yard but didn’t seem to see them. No reaction that he even knew that they were there, not watching them as they moved along. Nothing.
Give it time, I told him. And within another couple of days the dog totally saw them (and sadly, the foster allowed the dog to chase the deer – needless to say, he is no longer a foster home with us). When the dog first got there he was on system overload and may NOT have seen them – he couldn’t take one more thing in. Once he settled though… Rescue dogs are on “stunned” mode for the first couple days at least.
Nannette Cecile Morgan says
I think dogs go blank or are momentarily stunned. Just last week my Siberian and I were on our usual morning walk in the neighborhood. As we turned the corner of the library, we came face to face with 2 wild turkeys about 3 feet away. My dog stopped short in wonder/surprise. I was surprised to see them there too but often see them on the streets in my area. My dog is used to seeing all kinds of small birds and crows in our yard but given the size of the turkeys I wonder if he thought they were prehistoric birds visiting us. I could almost see him trying to process what kind of animal they were!
Betsy Knight says
Walking my first golden over 20 years ago (and being a newby “dog person”), I froze when a big dog came bounding out of a house and across its yard toward us. My mind visualized a wide open mouth with big fangs bared, ears back, hackles raised. I froze and yelled, ” Help!” embarrassingly loudly.
The owner walked out, called her dog to her, and said “Good Morning”. I waved, said good morning, and walked on.
Her dog’s teeth were not bared, hackles not raised. I was just so protective of my baby, I lost all control of my brain. I soon learned to remain calm and assess the situation. Especially so I don’t transfer my fear to my dog. I began walking on the opposite side of the street from that house, too. Many times we walked by the same dog in his yard, and he’d watch us as long as we were not on his side of the street.
Giang Rudderham says
This is such a fascinating blog post! Back when I first got Bonnie and didn’t know better, I used to bring her to the dog park frequently. (The dog park in my area has a lot of issues.) One day someone came with a big dog, and he pinned Bonnie to the ground almost as soon as he got into the park. I can still see that scene in my mind: the big dog standing on Bonnie’s shoulders, weight forward, growling; Bonnie turning her head away, mouth closed, looking miserable. Several dog owners stood forming a circle around the scene but no one did anything, including the other dog’s owner.
It happened so fast and I was so shocked my mind went blank. I can’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I knew, the other dog was not standing on Bonnie anymore, so I called Bonnie to come to me and we left. I blamed myself for letting harm come Bonnie’s way and for not knowing how to react. It’s helpful to know it can happen to other people too!
As for my dog, I don’t know if Bonnie’s mind ever goes blank, but she does seem to have “tunnel vision” whenever she sees a squirrel (wants to chase) or a human (wants to say hi and get pets). She gets so focused on the squirrel or the human that she seems to forget I’m there for a few seconds. I’m still working on getting through to her in those moments. Thinking that her mind goes blank because of the stimulation helps me empathize with her better.
Jenny Haskins says
I think with me it is the exact opposite.
In moments of terror I can do a half hour’s of thinking in the fraction of a second it takes me to discover that I HAVE reacted appropriately.
Situations that occur more slowly I find that I do NOT react fast enough. Too much “What should it do?”
Gayla says
I’ve seen both, wild pigs and deer, freeze when startled. I can’t imagine it doesn’t happen to dogs too. My current dog has a very active defensive reflex, so she’s (unfortunately) not frozen when frightened. Pretty sure she’s not thinking either. See eye roll…
I remember the Luke story from the book. Love the way you write!
Grace says
My Basenji had a serious problem at an agility training facility that had a small window in the wall of the office/storage area. For whatever reason, the agility instructor’s wife went in that room when it was my turn to run my dog. All of a sudden a woman’s head with no body appeared in the middle of the wall. Lewis was squealing so loud & was unable to look away so I took him outside. It took a while for him to quiet & we rejoined the class. Then the woman did the same thing the next class! I didn’t want to risk him making the wrong connections so I quit the class & spent several weeks countercondition him to the facility (and the window) and doing practices there on our own.
In my volunteer work at local Humane Society shelter and when working with reactive dogs, I see the micro-freeze often, but I can’t say that I’ve seen any of the shelter dogs stunned into immobility. The area where I walk the shelter dogs is safe (low distractions, no loose dogs, very little road traffic) and all of the dogs respond pretty quickly (I give lots of cues & obvious body language) when I change direction to avoid a potential issue. But your topic is a good conversation starter for what to do if…
I do a field trip for one session of each training course I offer; it gives the dog a chance to check out a new environment in the company of safe people, and it gives clients/owners an opportunity to observe their dog’s body language. I always suggest that they find an area that has low activity & hang out there while the dog sniffs around, then when the dog is ready to start exploring, follow along & watch. If the dog gives signs of being uncomfortable they should go back to the “safe zone” until the dog is calm, then either resume exploring or leave the area, as the dog indicates. And don’t ask for skills in a new area until you & dog have been there 5-6 times & the novelty has somewhat worn off. In my group classes I have owners & dogs gather outside & walk around so the dogs can sniff & look at each other from a distance before class, then one at a time to make a quick sniff circuit of the room before everyone comes in.
Lucky you to go to Acadia National Park. I spent 2 glorious summers (2006 & 2007) exploring the Maine coast on my 35-foot sailboat. Imagine being on a small boat dodging lobster pots in that kind of fog!! Lobster rolls, fresh mussels we collected ourselves at low tide, & wild blueberries, great memories.
Shivani says
Auggie’s my first dog and sadly I’ve had a couple of instances of going blank right at the moment when I needed to be quick and decisive. Shortly after adopting him, we were charged by a really big dog. It seemed like everything was happening so fast, and yet also in slow motion. As the dog was tearing toward us, I froze. I couldn’t think of any way to deter a dog that size. Auggie seemed to freeze as well. Just before the dog reached us I picked up Auggie and tried to tuck him in my coat (he’s 20 lbs) while also turning my back on the other dog. The dog leapt at my back and Auggie starting barking and snarling. The owner finally caught up to their dog and pulled him away. I couldn’t believe I was so ineffective. I didn’t walk Auggie for days after that, I was so shaken.
On a lighter note, yesterday the back door was open and a bird flew into the house. Auggie was so surprised he didn’t seem to know how to react. His face just looked like, “Wait, wha…?” It’s like when you were a kid and saw your school teacher at the grocery store. Totally out of context.
This time my brain worked quickly and calmly. Now if only it would do that when I’m in a situation where I’m afraid for Auggie’s safety.
Evelynn Linden says
What happened with your dog? Did he make it?? The story is not telling..
Donna Baker says
I’m not sure this qualifies as being stunned or going blank, but many years ago I was standing with my then-current dog (a very sweet and placid female Golden Retriever named Tyler) talking with a friend who also had her dog with her (male Golden Retriever). We were on the grounds of the local rescue facility where we both volunteered and the two dogs (who knew each other) were sitting next to us very calmly while we chatted. Suddenly, my friend’s dog grabbed onto Tyler’s ear and began biting down hard. If there was a precursor to this behavior, we both missed it so it seemed to come out of the blue. I do remember that Tyler kind of went catatonic … I think she was so surprised and shocked (stunned?) that she didn’t flinch or fight back … she just stared at me with a look that implored me to get him off of her!
She did have some minor damage to her ear, but nothing too serious. The more significant damage was psychological, however, and interestingly, it took me a long time to figure that out. Tyler had always loved going with me to the rescue, but after that incident, she became very reluctant to get out of the car if we were there and was clearly anxious and uncomfortable the whole time. Since we didn’t go that often, I at first couldn’t figure out why her attitude had changed. It literally took me years until one day the proverbial light bulb went off in my head and I realized that since the ear incident, she now had a negative association with being at the rescue. It was so obvious in hindsight that it’s embarrassing to admit that I took so long to understand what was troubling her!
JeanineH says
What do you mean “someone assaulted Skip”? What?! What kind of low-life would do that?
When 4 off leash dogs attacked and bloodied my 2 beagles, I froze too. Not for too long, as I soon started kicking the attacking chows. But I will never forget standing in inaction while that chow had my beagle by the throat and wouldn’t let go. Somehow we all survived, but I wish I had started kicking earlier.
Trisha says
JeannieH: I’m keeping the details private, but at some point I’ll explain in more depth. The good news is that after a year of counter conditioning he is 90-95% recovered. Ah, life.
Tamasin says
Bumped into this:
Atsushi Fujimoto, Elisabeth A. Murray, Peter H. Rudebeck. Interaction between decision-making and interoceptive representations of bodily arousal in frontal cortex. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 2021; 118 (35): e2014781118 DOI: 10.1073/pnas.2014781118
Or for a quick summary:
The Mount Sinai Hospital / Mount Sinai School of Medicine. “How a racing heart may alter decision-making brain circuits: Body-state monitoring neurons can hijack the decision-making process.” ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 30 August 2021.
Melanie Hawkes says
I’m late commenting, but think I have 2 examples, both with my previous service dog Happy.
1. We were walking home from having him bathed when I realised they’d put his slip leash (I didn’t know any better back then) on back to front. I stopped at a park and got him to jump on a bench. I pulled the leash off, over his head, and dropped it on the floor, the other end still attached to my wheelchair. We sat still for several seconds, he looked at the floor, looked back at me, not sure what to do. Next thing I knew, he took off, straight into the duck pond! I was dragging the leash, calling him, but he was enjoying himself too much. He finally came up to a resident and staff member of the nearby nursing home who got his leash back on for me. But he was so dirty, I had to go back to the dog wash place and have him rinsed off. They laughed so much they didn’t charge me.
2. One cold, winter day we were catching the train to the football to see my team play. My usual wheelchair joystick had broken and I had a substitute one that was more stiff, and made my arm more tired than I was used to. After a 15 minute walk to the station, I crossed the first track as the bells rang to warn of the approaching train. The cold, my fatigue as well as the bumps of crossing the track made my hand come off the joystick, and I sat frozen in between the two tracks. The train stopped before it got to me, and someone waiting for that train must have realised it wasn’t going to move unless I did, so jumped off the platform and gave me a nudge. It was enough to get my arm back on the joystick and cross the second track to safety, just before another train came the other way. I didn’t really feel traumatised by the incident until I got home that night. I still don’t like level crossings (I have moved house since so don’t have one nearby now). Happy stayed quiet throughout the whole ordeal (stunned too?) but developed noise phobias and had to be retired. I don’t know if this incident caused it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.
I hope Skip (and you) are doing better. How awful!