I Scared Andy When Studying for the LSAT

Four weeks before my rescheduled LSAT date, I studied in earnest. I had “Plan B”, my preparations for finding a new job, ready to go if I bombed on the LSAT as my practice tests indicated I would. My first two tests were especially atrocious. No law school in the land, even the online ones, was going to grant me admission. But, I paid for the prep course, materials and test, so I was going to take this mother fucker.


Every day, I’d go over at least 20 questions in the logical reasoning segment, my worst segment. I didn’t care how long it took me to get the right answer. I would stare at the book until I got the right answer. Just for the LR section alone, I would take 90 minutes of studying each day. Gradually, very gradually, the time I needed to find the right answers went down.

As fate would have it, a wrinkle was thrown into my study plans. Andy was scared when I studied. He would lay down, point his face directly at me and stare at me with a wide-eyed expression. I knew that look and seen it many times before. He had that look when I chewed gum or popped the bubble-packaging from a UPS delivery. The intensity and focus on my face made him nervous. I loved him a whole bunch but there was no way in hell I was going to let a crazy-ass dog derail my studying. Damn, if that dog didn’t live his life in fear.

I had to do something. First, I left the TV on but kept the volume down low. Usually, I’d keep it on TV Land with something like Bonanza or Gunsmoke. I would then pause every 5 or 10 minutes, look at Andy and say something nice to him. He settled down after my efforts to calm him down but he was still slightly on edge.

My God does day-time TV suck. TV Land was the only station I could stomach during that time slot. Everything else was either some talk show or a judge show. If this is what I have to look forward to when I retire, then retirement is going to suck.

To Kill a Mockingbird

I didn’t kill a mockingbird but I did slap the shit out of one. In the spring of 2008, a pair of mockingbirds built a nest near an entrance of the park Andy and I used. To make matters worse, the nest was near Andy’s “spot” where he used the bathroom. Dogs have their spots and tend not to go outside them. Some will hold it until they can make it to their “spot.”


The bird first announced itself by chirping loudly. It would sit on a branch close to us and chirp at us. This was not a sweety-pie songbird chirping. He was loud and abrasive. We paid it no mind and kept walking. When this didn’t work, the bird would start to fly by us. It would swoop by us and swarm around us until we reached a comfortable distance from its nest.

Within a few days, the bird escalated its hostilities and started strafing Andy. It would dive in and tap Andy on his rump. Andy would tuck his tail in fear. The chirping scared him enough but the physical assault was too much for Andy. He already had neurotic tendencies and the bird only exacerbated them. Andy, luckily, would find another spot to use the bathroom. But our problems got worse.

The bird started attacking me. Unlike Andy, I would fight back. Even though the bird would attack from the rear, I have good hearing and could hear its wings flapping right as it closed in on me. I turned around and backhanded it with my left hand. I made direct contact with it and knocked him away a few feet. I thought he would leave us alone. I was only half right.

He stopped attacking me but redoubled his efforts at Andy. I put my arm over Andy’s rump, the bird’s site of attack. Undeterred, the bird simply shifted its attack site and started popping Andy on his head. The bird further intensified its efforts by sitting on a light pole across the street and chirp loudly at us while we were waiting to cross the street to go to the park. This was an aggressive son of a bitch, and Andy was starting to shake and cower in fear. The bird would even chase us back across the street as we left the park, down the sidewalk and around the corner. He would not give up and he almost won. I came very close to letting Andy stay at my mom’s until this thing passed over. The fear almost paralyzed Andy.

Out of desperation, I took a long-stem umbrella with me during our walks. I kept it closed and would swat at the bird when he attacked Andy. After a few brushes with the umbrella, the bird fell back and would chirp loudly at us. I had to hold the umbrella over Andy or the bird would take a swipe at Andy. Otherwise, the umbrella worked. The trade-off was me looking like an eccentric nut holding a closed umbrella over my dog while we went walking.

Thanksgiving 2007Part II

Andy on my air mattress

Almost everyone liked Andy except for one: Lucy, my cousin’s 13 year old lab-mix. Lucy had been to that house many times and viewed it as her domain. In her mind, Andy was an interloper intruding on her turf. She was mean as hell to him and literally a bitch to him. I knew Andy was scared and couldn’t fight, so I knew the dogs wouldn’t escalate any hostility to a deadly stage. I did think it was cute the way Andy reacted to Lucy’s anti-social behavior.


To make matters worse, both dogs had to stay down in the basement. My aunt let me take Andy up there on condition he stays downstairs. She didn’t want a big dog messing in her house which was understandable and fine by me. Her basement has twice the area of my condo. My cousin stayed in a bedroom down there while my brother and I stayed in the rec-room on inflatable mattresses we brought with us. Of course, Lucy and Andy stayed down there too.

After a few growls and teethies at each other, the dogs established an armistice and kept at bay from each other. They stayed on separate sides of the rec-room. Lucy stayed on the half closest to my cousin’s bedroom while Andy stayed on the half closest to the entrance and where my bed was. In between there was a “no-man’s land.” When both dogs were there, neither dog would go in that zone.

Lucy was pretty upset at the interloper. While we were watching TV on the couch, Lucy would turn away from Andy, peek at him occasionally and give my cousin a plaintive look as if to say “Can’t you do something? Get him out of here.” Lucy looked so pitiful.

Meanwhile, Andy was lying on my bed and scoping the room. He was scared and it showed the first night when we went to sleep. Normally, Andy would sleep at the foot of the bed or on the floor but on this night, he pressed his body hard against mine and stayed there the whole night. He was scared and wanted protection. He normally didn’t want to be close to my snoring and flailing around but this was a crisis for Andy. I thought he was so cute and precious that night. His cuteness was seemingly infinite. Even at age 9, he could still find new ways to be cute.

In the next two nights, Andy felt more at ease and move further from me while we slept. On night two, he stayed on the mattress but at the foot of the bed. On night three, he didn’t sleep on the mattress at all. Instead, he stayed on the day-bed by my bed and against the wall. I think Andy liked this position better because he had a higher place in the room and allowed him to lord over the area. Lucy wasn’t thrilled about that.

Andy Must Have Been a Republican

Andy would not let the Raleigh mayor pet him one day when he tried to pet him. I was embarrassed. The guy was trying to be nice and he probably liked dogs. Andy wanted nothing to do with him. Andy didn’t know how pretty he was and how much dog-lovers wanted to pet him. He was that beautiful.


The mayor was a nice enough guy. I didn’t vote for him. I rarely vote Democrat, and Mayor Meeker is a Democrat. He was at the helm for 10 years while Raleigh grew at a steady clip. He didn’t fuck things up so I suppose he did a good job.

My old condo building is catty-corner to the Municipal Building (“City Hall”) where Meeker governed. He’d pass by us many times while we were on our late afternoon walks so I think he had a sense of familiarity with us that day when he tried to pet Andy. The Mayor wasn’t the only person Andy shunned but given that this was the mayor, I didn’t want him to feel slighted or be a shit-ass to him. How was he to know Andy lived his life in fear and was scared of strangers? From then on, I’d smile and nod at the mayor when our paths crossed. This was in contrast to my normal rule of not acknowledging or greeting strangers. Like Andy, I wanted to be left alone. But out of respect for the mayor, I’d make eye contact and say “Hello.” He’d return the smile and keep going down the sidewalk to his car. I wonder if he thought Pandy Please was a Republican.

Andy's Separation Anxiety

All alone outside. What a pitiful face.

Andy's Reaction to "I'll be back"

Andy had separation anxiety when he was younger which subsided for quite a while until a few years later when he was living alone with me at my condo. Andy’s separation anxiety did not lead him to tear things up or for him to pitch temper tantrums like Abby did when she was alone. For example, Andy would scratch at the door if he were left alone outside. If Andy needed to go to the bathroom, he would let us know and we’d let him out. Once he had taken care of his personal business, he didn’t want to be alone any longer. He would scratch at the door to tell us to let him in. Also, if we had been out of the house for a while, Andy would jump up on the side door before we opened it and scratch vigorously. We have two doors with permanent scratch marks.


This separation anxiety subsided when he matured but it resurfaced when he was around 7 when he lived alone with me at my place. He didn’t mind it when I left for work. He had some sleeping to do and had no time to sulk. He’d bid farewell (i.e. he let me pet him) and went into the living room to lie down. But in the evenings when I left him alone to go somewhere, he did not take it well.

Before I left, I always said “I’ll be back.” If I said that later in the day, he would pout and sulk. If he had a toy in his mouth, he would drop it and stare at me blankly. He would also put on an expressive show of sadness by drooping his ears and hanging his head down. He would not let me pet him. Andy would go by me to the stairs and went up into the loft. He could not bear to watch me leave. His heart was broken. I’d always tell him “bye bye” and would ask him to see me but he absolutely refused to say good-bye to me.

I was curious to see how long it would take him to go back downstairs after I left so one day, I stood just outside my door when I left. I quietly waited and about a minute later, I heard him ‘boom boom boom’ down the steps. I immediately opened the door and caught him while he was on the landing. He stood motionless. He would not come all the way down. He was sending me a message. If he was trying to make me feel guilty, he succeeded.

Andy's Fears:Loud noises: Thunder & Fireworks

Saying that a dog is scared of thunder or fireworks is about as trite and common-place as a traffic report. It’s boring but expected. The problem with Andy’s fears on the matter concerned his going to the bathroom. If there were a storm going outside, Andy would not go. Period. I don’t care if he had enough urine in his bladder to fill Lake Ontario, he would not go outside. Instead, he would walk as close to me as he could. I could feel his body quivering. On the times when I tried to take him out but was cut short because of an unexpected storm, I would have to take him back inside and wait the storm. Once the storm passed, I could then take him out to take care of business. But if I did not take him out, maybe because the storm raged well into the night, Andy would sneak off the bed in the middle of the night, go downstairs and pee-pee and poo-poo. I’d remind him the next morning how he was bad but I didn’t punish him: “Did you do that?” or “Bad boy”. But I wouldn’t spank him. The verbal scolding was enough.


On one 4th of July, I was walking Andy in the park when a fireworks display began 3 blocks away in the downtown area. I knew the State Fair Grounds had a fireworks display. It has been a tradition in the Raleigh area drawing thousands of spectators. Unfortunately, I didn’t know about the downtown event and was caught and exposed to the ground shaking explosions. Andy crouched to the ground, almost paralyzed in fear. I thought I was going to have to pick him up and take him back inside. Luckily, I was able to plead him to go back home with me. My poor Baby Boy was scared shitless. I always take careful steps to avoid stressful situations such as firework explosions. I didn’t do a good job that night.

Horses

Fire Fighters Memorial

The Raleigh Police Department has a Mounted Patrol Division. I’d often see the mounted patrol going around the downtown area. I worried about what would happen if they ever crossed paths with the Babies. I feared the Babies would spook the horses by growling or barking at them. I also worried that they might trample over me and the Babies.


The first time Andy saw a horse, he stuck his hair up along his back. Abby wasn’t fazed. The horses were a block or two away. Andy could see them. He let out a low growl but he didn’t bark. The horses didn’t come close to us, so nothing else happened.

The second time we came across horses, we had a closer encounter. A horse was in the park where we normally take our daily walk. Fortunately, the horse was 20 yards off the circular sidewalk we went around. The moment of truth came when we approached that 20 yard mark. About that time, Andy first saw the horses. He paused, glanced and then kept walking. He didn’t growl, stick his hair up or bark. Maybe when the horses were further away, he thought they were dogs, and Andy did not like other dogs. Since this was another species, Andy was not as alert or concerned. Abby didn’t pay the horse much attention either.

The cop seemed a little tense. He zeroed in on the Babies starring at them the whole time. His horse started to make a few snorts. Luckily, the cop held the horse steady and we passed by without an incident.

Abby's Fears:Large Trucks

Tractor trailers going directly by Abby scared her. The truck had to be in the lane closest to us and moving at a relatively fast speed. The street in front of the condo is a major artery for downtown Raleigh and had a decent amount of traffic. When the truck would go by, Abby would cower away. This was rare for her because she rarely showed fear. I don’t know what specifically scared her: the size of the truck, the truck’s loud noise or the ground rumbling.


Abby was scared of a few other things, but she acted cool about it. For example, if there was a thunderstorm, Abby would discreetly move closer to me. She wouldn’t be trembling or paralyzed with fear like Andy or Father. She was nervous and would quietly seek protection from me. But when a tractor trailer blew by, Abby visibly flinched. Andy was unfazed.

Andy's Claustrophobia

The bowls were kept near the cooler on the right.

I had a lot to learn about Andy. I knew he loved to play, play-fetch and swim. I knew he loved Abby and my mom. He also had some hang-ups. As I came to know him better, I would find out just how broad and seemingly endless the hang-ups he had. I knew quite a bit about Abby. I helped raised her. Learning about Andy’s quirks and idiosyncracies could be funny but at other times it would be frustrating and even sad.


The first thing I learned about Andy after he moved in was that he was claustrophobic. My condo had a gallery-type kitchen. Even though the square footage in the condo was barely over 900 sqft, the kitchen had ample room. I thought I had a good idea by placing the dogs’ food and water bowls at the end of the kitchen. I wanted the bowls to be far out of the way of the hallway traffic between the entrance and the living room. I wouldn’t run into them. Yet the bowls sit close to where the food and water were making it easy for me to refill them.

On the first day, I knew the idea had fallen flat. Andy was hungry and thirsty. He took a step towards the bowls but would back out. I could hear him “tip-tipping” after advancing a step towards the bowls only for him to “tip-tip” back out. This went on a dozen times. I was watching TV which is why it took me a while to catch on to Andy’s dilemma.

I stood up to take a closer look. Andy backed all the way out. I commanded him to eat. He wouldn’t. He drooped his ears down. I knew that look of fear. He had that same look when it thunderstormed. Andy was claustrophobic. I knew I wasn’t going to cure him, so I had to put the bowls in a more accessible place for him.

I put the bowls at the entrance of the kitchen galley. Andy would not be closed in and would never feel trapped. As soon as I put the bowls at their new place, Andy ate and drank with no problems. Putting the bowls there was not efficient space management in such a small place. I had to make the adjustment to accommodate my baby boy. It fortunately worked.