An emotional wobble

I’d been coasting along fairly contentedly. I’d been reflecting on where we are and felt that, as long as we don’t have to do anything out of the ordinary (like a road trip!), we’ve got a pretty manageable routine going. I'd had an idea for a blog post about the safe, albeit small, world we've built.

At pick-up, there was a lady waiting just outside reception. I knew George was going to bark and lunge (and he did), but I thought we could hustle past and get out as fast as possible.

I was keeping as much distance as possible (though there wasn’t a huge amount of room), keeping myself in the middle, and at some point George’s barking and lunging collided with my leg.

I felt it—it hurt—but I just kept going calmly until we got safely into the car.

I’m not sure whether anyone noticed. I was looking at the lady throughout, and she didn’t look up from her phone.

I had a small cut and bruising starting to form on my leg.

I’m pretty sure he didn’t intend to do it. Everything happened so fast, but I am 99% sure it was a collision in a small space. I think I even moved my leg into him. But my initial thought was, Oh my god, he bit me.

I shed a few tears on the way home.

Everything kind of hit me at once: the isolation, the constant management, the constant worry and vigilance.

And yet, it can still get worse.

I need to be even more careful. I need to make sure dogs and people can’t get close to George. I knew this already, but this incident made me even more worried. He doesn't need to intend to hurt someone, but it could happen accidentally. I had “management always fails” on a loop in my head.

At home, we tried to relax and decompress. We didn’t go anywhere the next day. I couldn’t face it.

It was a long weekend, so I had a lot of time in my own head. We did get out for a walk with my friend and her dog, but I felt even more anxious than normal. I didn’t want to use the long line, although we had good visibility.

We made it out to a Sniffspot, which did us both good. Although I am even more anxious about running the neighbour gauntlet.

We’ve upped the muzzle training, which I think will give me some more peace of mind. George is doing well, but it’s a slow process. Plus, it won’t help with daycare pick-up.

This split second incident really affected me. I’m a little ashamed to say that I thought, I don’t want to do this anymore. But I want to be honest on this blog.

And on reflection, I think it’s normal to have those thoughts from time to time. It’s bloody hard. And constant.

And then I feel guilty because I love him so much. And it’s not his fault. And it could be so much worse. But it felt like the final straw at the time. Why can't we just walk past a person, just once.

It's frustrating and upsetting that despite adapting your entire life, trying so hard and caring so much, sometimes it feels like there is no progress. Or even that you're going backwards.

I think it’s necessary to sit with these feelings for a little while and acknowledge them. If I insist on my normal British approach of relentless positivity and everything will be fine, I will eventually crack.

I'm more nervous about daycare drop-offs and pick-ups. I'm more anxious about getting in and out of the house, let alone actually going for a walk. And of course, all this anxiety transfers down the leash.

So my plan is to try and be kind to myself (and George, of course) this week. Try to decompress. Gently work on the muzzle training. Of course, I need to maintain vigilance outside the house. Try to view what happened as a learning experience. When we are ready, restart the desensitisation work.

And try to remember, it’s OK not to be OK sometimes.