My dog Jojo has a whole host of issues. He is anxious but also aggressive, sensitive, and prone to passing gas frequently. He dislikes car rides, meeting new people, dogs of any kind, disruptions to his routine, having his ears cleaned, and trips to the vet. Our family jokes that he trembles if we look at him wrong. But beneath his problems, he is a sweet soul, just very slow to embrace change.
I will admit that when we adopted Jojo at eight weeks old, we had no idea what we were getting into. My husband Dan and I grew up with family dogs with temperaments suited to young children (springer spaniels and black labs). We expected Jojo to adapt to the happy chaos of our family—then with a two-year-old and seven-year-old and our other dog, Gigi—without many hiccups. We thought the worst of it would be housebreaking him.
But we learned quickly that he was a different kind of dog. He was always scared, even as a little thing, which puzzled us, since we rescued him when he was so young. We figured he could not have had any traumatic experiences. As he grew bigger, he loved playing with our dog Gigi and other neighborhood dogs, but then one day, that changed. With the exception of Gigi, he did not like other dogs.
We ran a DNA test when he was a puppy and learned he was a mix of a little bit of everything but more American Staffordshire terrier (the American cousin to a pitbull) and boxer to anything else. This made a lot of sense of his aggressive outbursts towards other dogs, particularly as he grew older. He is hardwired to want to fight other dogs and fear new people. He protects himself in the ways he knows how—by snarling and growling and lunging. We sought help from a couple of trainers and took away one huge and important lesson: we cannot change Jojo; we can manage his behaviors. We can change our behaviors.
We now have some practical strategies for navigating his aggression: we play tug with him frequently (counterintuitively, encouraging rambunctiousness through safe play helps train appropriate displays of aggression), we have a “do not pet” sign on our leash, and we avoid other people and dogs while on walks. We treat good behavior. Most importantly, though, we have adjusted our expectations. We do not expect him to be a dog that he is not. We recognize his limitations.
This does not come naturally to me. I am an optimizer by default; I believe that if I just think hard enough, long enough, that I will find the right solution. Everything can be fixed with a system. But of course, that is not how life works, especially not when living creatures are concerned. Jojo is not a robot that we can reprogram. I wish he could play well with other dogs, I wish that he could greet other people nicely at the door without feeling threatened, and I wish that he had a more mild-mannered temperament, but that is not who he is. Training can address some of his behaviors but not his fundamental personality. This is Therapy 101: you can change yourself but not anyone else. Changing yourself, however, disrupts typical patterns of behavior with others, which does lead to change in the relationship.
My husband Dan and I educate our kids on what it means to be responsible for a dog like Jojo. We teach them to read his cues, his “tells” for if he is getting anxious. We respect his boundaries, especially when it comes to how much physical contact he wants. Really, these are healthy actions to take with any dog, but I must admit that my many years with endlessly tolerant and forgiving black labs had stunted my awareness.
I can list Jojo’s endearing qualities, and believe it or not, despite the preceding 500 words suggesting otherwise, there are many—he has the softest fur, gives gentle and generous kisses, and has the cutest body wiggle when excited—but this is not really an essay about Jojo; it is an essay about me. You may have heard people who rescue dogs say that their dogs actually rescued them. I would not say that exactly, but I would say that Jojo has taught me fundamental life lessons about acceptance and control and detachment, about allowing others to be and do on their own terms. I like to think that this translates to my interactions with humans (especially my little humans) but frankly, it has been easier to practice with the dog.
So maybe he did rescue me a bit after all.
Your best yet! You completely captured the reality of life with sweet (and challenging!) Jojo.