Oogy_ The Dog Only a Family Could Love - Larry Levin [41]
That was the owner’s story, and she was sticking to it.
Walking with Oogy in the early days was like strolling with a mayoral candidate. He wanted to meet everyone he saw on the street. He would pull me like a small tractor to go over to the person, and if I would not cooperate, he would lie down in the street and refuse to go anywhere until the object of his attention had disappeared or, as usually happened, I relented and allowed him to go meet the person.
As the months passed, people from the neighborhood who were afraid of Oogy always changed their minds about him once they actually got to meet him and experienced his gentle, affectionate nature. It was not that people’s fear of Oogy was illogical or unreasonable. His face was frightening, and none of these people had any way of knowing that his barking was not designed to scare them. On the contrary, he barked and paced to tell them he was frustrated because he could not meet them. Unfortunately, none of these people were conversant in Dog.
One evening several months after Oogy had joined our family, he and I were out for a stroll when we saw a young woman approaching us. She was power-walking and talking into a headset at the same time. As she drew closer, I heard her say, “Ma, here’s the dog I told you about, the one I’m afraid of?” I stopped. Oogy stood and looked at her. His tail wagged slowly back and forth. She approached us cautiously.
I said to the woman as she drew nearer, “It’s okay. He’s perfectly safe. I wouldn’t be keeping him here in front of you if that wasn’t the case.”
After a brief hesitation, the woman came over to Oogy. She held out one hand, and he sniffed it. Then he licked her.
“I am so afraid of your dog,” she said, “that I stopped jogging by your house.”
“There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of,” I assured her. “He only barks at you because he wants contact with you.”
“He seems very nice,” she admitted, nodding.
“He’s more than very nice,” I told her.
She cupped her hand under Oogy’s muzzle. Then she knelt and, fascinated by the texture of his fur, began to stroke his head and shoulders. Oogy lifted his head and licked her face. She asked me what had happened to him, and I told her. By the time the encounter was over, the woman was kissing Oogy on the top of his head and massaging the muscles in his neck while he backed into her in appreciation.
Similar encounters happened on several occasions, and people’s hesitancy if not fear dissolved once they actually met Oogy.
There have also been times when we have been able to use Oogy’s intimidating appearance and apparently aggressive behavior to our advantage. Whenever there were strangers working in the neighborhood, I made it a point to let Oogy out of the house. “If someone is thinking of coming into our house,” I assured the boys when they were younger, “once they take a look at Oogy and hear him barking, they’re going to start thinking about looking for another house.” Once Oogy had joined the family, the boys lost any lingering sense of discomfort they might have had about being alone.
While, thankfully, I’ve never had occasion to test this theory, I have always felt that if Oogy sensed we were afraid or if he perceived some threat, he would immediately transform himself into a completely different animal from the one we have encountered in his life so far. Out and about or in the house, in the blackest of the night, I have never had any fear that someone will physically threaten us or do us harm. In my heart, there has been no doubt that the dog we adore and who kisses us incessantly could and would react instantly to protect us at all costs — that he would die for us rather than let us feel threatened or allow us to be hurt. Oogy is a guardian who, I am convinced, will do whatever needs to be done to save us from peril.
One summer day, we came into the house and discovered that a window and screen were wide open in the family room. Nothing had been taken or moved. None of us would have had any reason to open the screen,