Andy, the first dog I wasn't afraid of.

 

I have been afraid of animals since I was 2 years old. The incident that brought on this fear involved a cat at a motel in Houston, Texas. I had just turned 2. We were leaving California and heading for Massachusetts but that's another story. 

Cats were the worst, a phobia although a past friend found testing me worth losing our friendship over, that plagued me until a few years ago. I tried to hold in that fear but there were times I just couldn't. Still, another story. 

When I was 9 or so, a neighbor found out I was afraid of dogs and she just couldn't tolerate that so she helped me to at least learn that touching a dog wouldn't literally kill me.  She invited me into her house to visit with her dog, a female as I recall. We sat with her dog, its back to us and she guided my hand to her (the dogs) back. The dog did nothing. I continued to pet her for a few minutes. I was still afraid but not of this dog. So it was and still is that I make friends one dog at a time letting them come to me. Except of course for the River Rats (a dog pack) but that's another story. 

We had friends who owned a farm in Tewksbury, Mass. where they raised pigs, kept chickens and always had dogs. One day, when I was about 6, I sat in a metal lawn chair on the back porch enjoying the sunlight and the beautiful surroundings. While I was taking it all in their Collie puppy, Lassie,  came running to me and out of no where it's paws were on my left hand and I jumped up and ran into the house. The dogs were rarely in the house. We visited Sonja and Bror and Stevie most summers, sometimes holidays and they would visit us. I guess it was the summer after I met my neighbor's dog that I was less apprehensive with the farm dogs but they were still high energy and funny. They didn't stop anyone from going in but they would surround anyone, barking anxiously when anyone tried to leave the house before the Berg's came out. One of the dogs, a Dalmation named Andy, was older and allowed in the house because of his age. I would sit with him and he let me pet him, never moving, never making a sound. I wanted to take him home to live with us. Everyone in the family knew about my fear and I suppose they were encouraged by my closeness to this dog. Maybe I was growing out of  it. Then I told them I wanted Andy to come home with us. My parents and Sonja were really supportive, kind, gentle in denying me my wish. Sonja explained that Andy was old and sick and he cried during the night because of his pain. My parents said that he wouldn't be able  to walk up the stairs to the house or my bedroom. He would have to sleep in the ground floor basement. He would be lonely. At some point I understood that I wasn't going to bring Andy home and it was best for him. It never occured to me that I wanted to take away someone's dog. While I might joke about that now, I would never seriouslly suggest taking away someone's pet. But I was 9. Andy wasn't there the next summer. No one had to say anything. 

Andy was the first dog I wasn't afraid of. Over time my mother and family members got dogs but I didn't get my first dog until I was 62. He as a gift from G-d. He was Renard.

I don't think of Andy often but from time to time I see a photo of a Dalmation and I remember. I painted this portrait in 2019 from a photo of a senior Dalmation with blue eyes, just like Andy.