Arrow!

What fears have you overcome and how?

When I was in grade 4, Mum sent me to her friend’s house to learn classical music. They lived nearby and I used to walk to the class and back. A few months after I started classes, they got a German shepherd called Arrow. Like all GSD pups, Arrow was a little bear. I only met him during my classes twice a week. Arrow was the exact opposite of Tinku our tiny dachshund. Tinku used to sleep under the stairs and was quite a social dog. Arrow, on the other hand, was a boisterous puppy growing into his paws. He was constantly running and chasing objects around the room. Every week he would grow a little. First, it was his legs that grew, then his snout and head, and eventually the rest of the body caught up. This change while expected and gradual for an adult, for a 10 year old it was a big shift. He stopped being the cuddly pup I could hold in my lap and became the terror that was nipping at my heels.

Tinku never nipped. Tinku loved walking with us and I never had to stop her. So the concept of standing still to issue a firm No was not something I had cause to learn. I loved Tinku and by extension I loved Arrow. I repeat I loved Arrow- the pup. I used to spend a quarter of my class time cuddling with the pup until my teacher/aunty would banish the pup from the room and have me focus on the lesson. At that point in time, Arrow made even the most interesting lessons very boring. I was constantly distracted. The milkman opening the gate to walk in and deliver milk was not a sound I had registered earlier, but, when Arrow started barking during class I registered the arrivals. Arrow was acutely aware of everything that happened around him and would start barking as soon as someone touched the gate. Hearing his tiny woofs and the barks he had yet to grow into was endearing. The first month went off in a flurry of a fuzzy ball flying across the rooms. The tiny woofs and the pattern of nails clattering on the marble floor as he scurried behind his ball kept me aware of where he was. Roughly six weeks after Arrow came in as a bundle of fur, he stood a foot taller, on longer feet with a longer tail and ears that flopped on his head.

He used to be locked up in the balcony facing the road and was usually sitting there silently watching everyone pass by. I used to come to class and sit in the room adjoining the balcony to practice music. Arrow was taller and was undergoing some training, so he was never allowed outside the balcony without supervision. The maids were used to him sitting there and would work around him. One evening, as I came in, I looked up to see Arrow sitting on the balcony and the maid cleaning the space around him. She used to do her tasks with the door shut as was the regular practice and assuming it was so, I walked in for class. The maid was new. The door was shut, not bolted. And Arrow was as eager to see me as I was to not see him. He charged the door which was just shut and before anyone could blink, he was flying down the stairs. I was walking up the stairs responding to the teacher’s queries who was busy in the kitchen, so I did not realize what happened until I saw him turn towards me on the landing. And then it kicked in!

FLIGHT! That was my response to that situation. I ran, down the stairs and into the dining area to the far side of the rectangular dining table. I went right, Arrow went left. We both paused. That’s when I registered the maid’s shout of surprise announcing that Arrow had escaped the balcony. Everything after that played in slow motion. Arrow ran towards me. I dodged him to head to the opposite side of the table. Semi-circles. I used the dining chairs as a way to stabilize my feet flying across the slippery marble. Arrow skidding because he could not use the chairs. He was headed my way. I was headed away from him. Aunty was screaming from the kitchen, telling me to stand still. But I had reached the point of no return, ‘flight mode’ was fully engaged. Breathless I told her to hold Arrow and leash him because I would not stop running. He terrified me!

I used to run and play games with Tinku at home, but Tinku was a small dog, her pace was fixed and for her, it was a simple game. There was no nipping and no excitement, it was an exercise and when she got tired, she ignored me. I believed I was fast because I could outrun Tinku, but that crazy run around the dining table on the slippery marble floor and I was no longer confident in my speed. I was tired, I was terrified and I hated Arrow. I have no idea how or why Arrow had transformed from Cupid’s gentle Arrow into Lucifer’s arrow. But, there he was, the devil!

Eventually, S, Aunty’s son came into the chaos of one crazy pup running behind another crazy kid running circles around a dining table. The maids and aunty were standing in a circle around the table trying to hold one of us or talking to the other. Voices were high, emotions running wild and S just got in the middle, turned and held Arrow around his neck, and led him back up the stairs. Exhausted, panting, and happy to be caught, Arrow slowly trudged up the stairs, tail wagging weakly behind him. I paused, on shaking legs, wondering when Arrow would streak downstairs again. Aunty looked at me, worried I was injured. I was fine. My tiny ego, on the other hand, had taken a beating.

The Music class I had grown to love and enjoy transformed into a trauma class overnight. I told Mum I did not want to go to class again. She was stunned. She had no idea what had happened and after a brief conversation with Aunty, she found out what had happened. The music class had done wonders for me, and she wanted me to continue, so she told me that Arrow would be confined to that balcony during class but I had to go to class as scheduled. Reluctantly I agreed. Every visit, I would go to the gate and knock on the gate to see where Arrow was located. The gate latch was his bell, he would come rushing with a volley of loud barks and this helped me place him. I would wait until someone confirmed that he was secured before I stepped in. S disliked it when Arrow was being trained and had to be locked because I had come in for class. Arrow and I were the happiest when we moved out of that house. Classes stopped and while I missed those classes, I did not miss being completely aware of where Arrow was through every second of those classes.

I loved Tinku, but I was terrified of dogs. I kept well away from all other dogs. A couple of years later, Tinku passed away. We were heartbroken. But we never got a dog again. Life went on as usual. And then Mum’s sibling got two dogs a Doberman and a mixed mongrel. One was raised to be an outdoor dog, the other an indoor dog. I never met the dogs as pups. I just know that one day I reached the gate to find one big bouncy dog on the other side barking away and a faint echo was heard from inside. These dogs were pretty decent and probably friendly, but I had no intention of giving them a chance to befriend me. Every visit, either Mum or one of the aunts would hold the outside dog, and I would run the few steps from the gate to the door. What a juggling act! They would divert and hold the dog, and I would open the gate, get in, close the gate so they could not escape, and then run through the door that was left open for me, into the paws of the indoor dog. What indulgent aunts!! They never forced me. And then Hema, the indoor dog, had a litter. She had three pups, one survived. Tara. Tara was littered around the time when life at my aunt’s place was in flux, things were changing and the pup added a layer of complexity. I was in college and would visit their home every alternate day. I missed Hema’s litter, but I got to meet Tara when she was 2 months old. It was love at first sight. She did not look like a cuddly bear, but she was close. And she was gentle. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Tara came home and she was the star who changed my perception of big dogs forever. Teaching her. Training her. Understanding her. Helped me overcome all those fears and terrors Arrow had left festering in my mind. I am still wary of a GSD, but hopefully, I won’t run around the nearest dining table if I see one.