Fear Rules

Our back porch is partially enclosed and covered with a metal roof. There's a ledge where the roof meets the support beams. Years ago I put a pretty ceramic skull in each corner of that ledge, just as a little memento mori. At some point, and without my noticing, a bird decided to build a nest behind one of them and dislodged it from its secure spot. Yesterday Kobi and Nio were playing on the porch--"playing" in this case means that Kobi was chasing Nio around trying to mount and hump him, and he was playing hard to get. He made a clumsy evasive maneuver and slammed into the wall, which sent the displaced skull crashing down onto the concrete floor.

Now, of course this would startle any dog, but Kobi is the Chicken Little of the canine world. She went completely nuts--barking hysterically, trembling, frothing at the mouth, etc. I was busy with something in the kitchen, so I went to the door and told her to be quiet, hoping I could put off cleaning up the mess until later. The sound of my voice will usually interrupt Kobi's panic attacks, at least temporarily, but not this time. She just went right on barking and drooling, her body in a half-crouch. She looked at me while she carried on, eyes wide, as if to say Do something, for god's sake!

I got a broom and swept up the pieces of the skull, which actually freaked her out even more. I know from bitter experience that it's a bad idea to bring her inside when she's in such a state. She has been known to eat the walls. So I shut the sliding glass door and watched her progressive meltdown. Most dogs would eventually just get worn out, but not the Big Yellow Ball of Crazy. She stood on the other side of the door for a while, spattering it with drool in her frenzy.

When it finally became clear to her that I was not coming back out, she wheeled around and went after poor Nio. Mindless aggression is always part of Kobi's fear response, and the more intense her fear, the more vigorously she attacks any available innocent target. (Does that remind you of anything?) Nio has a good 40 pounds on Kobi, so I'm not really worried about her hurting him, but he is pretty pathetic when she beats up on him. He looks to me for rescue, just as she does. Can't you do something about her, Mom?

Eventually, she did settle down enough that I could bring her in last night. Today she has been calmer, but periodically some tiny event I can't even perceive will remind her of yesterday's catastrophe, and she'll go back into panic mode for a while. That should stop in the next day or two, and this whole episode will be filed away in Kobi's tiny brain along with along with all her other imaginary brushes with death. Unlike most dogs, whose interior lives revolve around food, Kobi's mind is largely devoted to Things That Could Kill Me. I've always thought being wired for fear caused her to suffer, but after years of observing her, I'm not sure it does. Indulging panic almost seems to be a diversion for her, a way of relieving boredom and drawing attention to herself.

Amazing how much our pets are like us, isn't it?


Mors Ultima Linea Rerum, Flemish copperplate print, c.1570. Image from Wikimedia Commons.