Night Terrors

Dark out, as it tends to be when I walk my dog at night. She's almost finished. We are about set to come back in. I tell her "Go potty" like the training books say, and she's looking around for one last place to pee before we head inside. She doesn't see him crossing the parking lot, coming towards us. He has a bag slung over his shoulder. He comes up quietly, is 10 feet away or less when she notices him. And then she's startled by his sudden presence. She barks. This is to be expected when she's startled. She growls a bit. It's more of a growling with surprise than a growling with ferocity. I talk to her calmly, try to get her to relax. He asks her name. I tell him over her barking. I repeat it. He says it, and she's confused. How does he know my name? she might be thinking. But I won't pretend to know if she is thinking at all, if she is operating on instinct... or if she is acting as guard dog, my protector. She doesn't move towards him when he says her name, but runs away. She can't seem to get far enough away from him, doesn't want to say hi, doesn't want to get rubs. Does something about him rub her the wrong way? She doesn't calm down, keeps barking. He doesn't move. He stands there, watching. I move closer to my dog, lean to her head and whisper in her ear. She's not convinced. I should pay attention to that, but I don't. I am simply hoping he leaves so that she will not bark anymore. It takes him a while. He stands next to us like he belongs there, but I can't remember seeing him around the neighbourhood. Eventually he walks away, probably because she won't be quiet. "She needs some more training," he mutters as he leaves. It's not the reprimand of someone who doesn't like dogs. It's the comment of someone who just wants her to stop barking so he could proceed to... to not draw attention.

And suddenly I realize how creeped-out I am. How he was standing there, a stranger, how he learned her name so easily. How he might have quieted her and gotten closer.

After I take a shower tonight, I search my place. I want no strange men in here. I search, and I lock up. I double-check the locks. And I rub my dog generously for not giving in, even when he said her name. I love her hard, and damned if I'll silence her when she may be protecting me. Growl, my pup. Growl fiercely. Bless them beasties.