The Champ of Shame

Prison Dog

I can really beat myself up if given half a chance. It doesn't take much, but when I do something really worthy of a good beating, I am the champ of shame.

Here it is: I made a big mistake 10-days ago and the reverberations of that mistake have made it difficult to sleep, difficult to feel fully happy. It seems silly now, but the decision to let Rubin off leash when I knew (I knew!) he wouldn't behave burns in the pit of my stomach. The result? He antagonized two nasty dogs so much that one of them bit his owner. But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it is that she (the owner) wasn't sure who bit her and then she called the police.

Yes, the police ... who in turn called Animal Control. A nice officer showed up at my door and put Rubin under house arrest. It was called quarantine, though I had an option to keep him locked up here at home versus letting the nice officer haul him away. So for ten days, he's been unable to step outside the confines of our fenced yard.

This is a dog who walks with me everywhere. We log about 5-7 miles a day. He swims in the lake, runs through the wooded trails, and visits his dog friends all over the city. Under house arrest no dogs (or humans) were allowed in and Rubin wasn't allowed in the car to go anywhere.

It was torture for him and it was torture for me --torture doubled, in fact, because I understood why the situation was the way it was, but he had no idea. When I left the house and he stayed behind, he was confused and uncertain. As the confinement progressed, his mood changed. He became more stubborn. He refused to do things like come inside from the backyard or lie down when asked. He ripped things up. This is a dog who rarely ripped anything up yet there were toys he'd ignored for months torn to pieces. He whined at me. He stood at desk while I tried to work and begged with his eyes, with the cock of his head, and yes, with his moaning questions asking me to explain what the hell was going on.

Rubin is, if anything, a dog of routine. The woman who sold him to us warned us -- he'll grow to like habits. The habit has always been the same -- slow mornings, long walk, visits with other dogs and friends, more long walks and excursions on hikes, trips to the lake, and scheduled play dates at off-leash parks. A dog's life -- food, fun, friends, frolicking.

All of the sudden the routine changed -- still slow mornings, but then I left...without him. I came home, we played in the backyard until we were both panting and then I'd have to work at the computer or leave for an errand. He stayed behind. He never stays behind.

And every night I'd lie in bed stewing about my stupidity. I made the mistake yet he paid the price. He didn't bite anyone nor would he (unless threatened, but even then I'm not so certain). But here he was, stuck in the house and our small backyard wondering what was up with the major change in routine.

Forgiving myself has always been difficult. The forgiveness needed for this mistake is mountainous and I have yet to make my way up its slope.

Perhaps today will help. Rubin is free today and as soon as I take a shower, we're going out for a long, long walk -- down to the lake, up through the park, all along the ridge and to every doggie friend's house we can think of.

Perhaps that will set me on the path up the mountain of shame.