Tales of a neurotic dog

​Dudley is a big dog, a Black Lab/German Shepherd mix. He's got a low, threatening bark that puts most people off their stride the first time they hear it. The kind that will keep people in their cars while he runs around marking every tire before heading back to the driver's side door to jump up and plant his enormous paws on their window with an eager woof of hello. 

We tell those poor souls that he greets us with the same bark, but he''s perfectly harmless - don't worry. They're usually only slightly mollified as we coax them out. Then, as soon as they acknowledge him with a tentative, "Good boy, good Dudley," he's on them, looking for attention, looking for pats, pressing and circling their legs like an affectionate cat ,only he's so solid he can shove them back with a heavy lean.

You'd think this dog would be fearless, but he's not. We've watched him chase cars, snowmobiles, even a Forest Service plane using our house as a focal point when they were dipping into our lake to fight a nearby fire. They'd follow our driveway down to the water and Dudley would follow them, warning them away after every loop. Once we watched in horror as he took off after a wolf a good deal larger than him. We thought we'd lose him that day for sure, but no.  He's chased deer, moose, even bear off our property. None of those things frighten him. Nope, he's afraid of stairs, the vacuum, the Swiffer I use on our wood floors, and now, the broom.

I have never antagonized him with any of those things, nor has anyone else as far as I'm aware. It simply is what it is. If I want him outside for whatever reason, all I have to do is go collect the vacuum. As soon as he hears it rolling down the hallway, he's at the door, his feet doing a frantic dance on the tiles. He wants out. Now!  I realize there are lots of dogs with these aversions, but the fear of stairs? That one surprises us. I've never heard of that before.

He's never been upstairs to our lofted master bedroom. Good for me, but weird.  Even when we have friends and family over for extended visits with their animals, he won't follow. He'll whine and carry on at the bottom of the steps, but he won't venture up with us. It's the same with outdoor steps. He will take longer, much more difficult routes up steep yards, bulldozing his way through thick bushes and stickers just to avoid the steps.

We stay with friends a couple of times a year and always take him along because his buddies are there and they can play and cavort. Those dogs have the run of the house because they don't shy away from all the staircases. Not Dudley. If we want to be downstairs in the family room playing Wii or watching something on the big screen television, someone has to put shoes on and escort our dog around the house so we can let him in the patio door on the lower level. We have never succeeded, no matter how many times or how many incentives, to coax him down a single step. Of course, the house is on a lake and there's a very steep staircase leading down to the boat.

You know what Dudley does? He braves the brambles, the wild, untamed hills on either side. When he comes to the eight foot tall concrete retaining wall at the bottom, he leaps to the grass below. He'd rather wipe out doing a belly flop on the lawn than face those steps.

As he sprawls lazily on our rug nearby, I wonder if he'd be so calm knowing our annual ice fishing trip is coming up. Too bad I can't tell him.

Okay, maybe I antagonize him a little.


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*The blog post was originally shared in 2012. Rest in peace, dear Dudley. Miss you, boy.