The Truth Behind the Fear

You saved my life that day, and I will always be grateful to you for that. I did not trust you before, but that day you proved me wrong.

We never know what the truth really is, do we?

It was an autumn day, perfect for a walk. Your face soaked up the sun and your eyes gleamed. You have this thing — everybody can see it in your step — about how you carry yourself: you exude joy.

My Fitbit showed that I needed two thousand more steps to reach my target. It was one of your good days and it was my chance to show you that it’s all right. So, I suggested a stroll in the park.

Once in the park, I talked about my dream, and you listened. I blabbed, and you listened. My dream was about a woman who moved her belongings around in a dark alley. Something weird. What else? You know, one of those dreams from which you wake up with a bad feeling. But my dream was just a way to distract you.

I knew about your fear of the dark, so the more the sun went down, the more I talked. When the dusk started to settle, I was nervous for you.

I struggled so much in the years since you came to live with us. You lost your mother and your brothers; I knew there were some things in your past that you wanted so badly to forget and things that you could not express.

I was so frustrated with you. I wanted to dispel the fear that made you lash out then hide away for hours. I felt hurt by your recoil when I hugged you. I thought that love did not need a book, did not need words … surely everybody could feel and understand love?

I was taken aback by your anger. I tried all I could.

I smothered you with love, with kind words, then I shouted at you, and I punished you when you were mean. I gave you nice things, trying to buy your love. I wanted so much to see you happy that I refused to see that bribery was not the right way. I failed each time.

Then your fears shifted to me. You jumped when there was a sudden knock at the door, and I jumped with you. You hid when there were steps outside on the street late at night, and I hid with you. You had a nightmare and cried in your sleep, so I went to wake you up. I wanted to comfort you and reassure you that you were safe. You looked at me with blank sleepy eyes and I sometimes saw hatred in there. I know that you did not believe me, and it hurt me. I cried in frustration, not understanding what I’d done wrong and what I was supposed to do to help you.

I am sure I dreamt about lonely, frightened women because of you, because of the pain I could see in your eyes. Will I ever be able to find out what it is, the heavy pain in your soul?

So, we walked in the park next to each other, and I kept going on about my dream. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw that you were not there anymore. I looked back and I noticed you were hiding behind me, as if away from the dark.

Your eyes were narrowed, your neck stretched, your chin lowered. In your fear, and how you held your breath, I could almost see in you a lion prowling.

Then it happened.

From behind a tree, a man jumped out and attacked me with a knife. Before I had the chance to process it, he grabbed my arm and brought the massive blade under my chin. I smelled on him alcohol, and filth. I forced my head back; I struggled to create as much space as possible between his knife and my neck. I froze and I did not dare to draw breath.

‘Give me the—’ was all he had time to say.

You jumped from behind me, and you snatched his wrist. Your quick movement pushed me back, and I lost my balance. You growled with a rage like I had never seen before in you. You bit his arm hard and you shook it in your jaw. The man screamed. He dropped the knife, but you still did not let go.

‘Call off your dog!’ my assailant shouted.

I stood up and took the time to clean my trousers, then I touched my neck to make sure that his knife hadn’t cut me. And then I watched you, and I smiled, and my heart grew amazed at the beauty of your strength and the loyalty of your heart. You were still on top of him, and there it was, I could see it again. Your ears were pulled back, your body tensed, your neck lengthened and your head hanging down. Your teeth held on to the man’s hand. The hand that had tried to hurt me.

That is when it clicked. It was not fear for yourself that I saw in you.

You were prowling — prowling for the dangers that could hurt your master. It was not fear that pulled you back, it was you getting ready for attack. You were in full protection mode.

So, yes, that day you saved my life. From now on, my dear dog, I will always trust you.