I'm a heeler person, and what we're talking about here ain't just dogs.  You know about heeler dogs, right?  You know, those Australian cow dogs that have become popular around farms and ranches.  In case you don't know what they look like, scroll down to the bottom of the D&R Ranch page and take a look at Greta, my Queensland heeler dog.  She's a long way from being a cow dog now, but that's what her breeding is all about.  I love heelers.  I love the way they look, and even they way they behave, which isn't always easy to deal with.  

I found Greta in an animal shelter, all screwed up and needing some TLC real bad.  I knew she'd be a challenge when I brought her home because I've had heelers before.  They're smart dogs, but they've sure got a mind of their own.  They are often high strung dogs - very intense and hard workers when they're doing their thing, which is tending to cows.  But taken away from that and put in a family home, the heeler dog retains its instinct to herd.  We've also got a cocker spaniel, and Greta thinks her job is to herd Sophie.  If you know anything about cockers, you know they're sometimes a little grumpy.  Sohpie would attack anything . . .  even Greta, and attacking a cow dog is not smart.  They're quick and have powerful jaws (goes back to the dingo in them, I guess), and they will bite you if provoked.  Some will bite just for giggles and grins, depending on how they're socialized.  That's what this blog is about - socialization.

I can empthaize with heelers because I'm a biter too.  Yup, mess with me, and I'll damn sure leave some bite marks on you.  I do that because it's the way I've been socialized.  My mother was about as completely nonviolent as a person can get, hated physical combat of almost any kind - but she would, if provoked, bite a chunk out of your ass.  I know 'cause I've got lots of her bite marks still on mine.  It seems to be my lot in life to be associated with women like that, even Rojo Grande, the gal I'm married to now.  Like my mama, she bites.  Unlike my mama who hated physical violence, she'll also sock you a good one  . . . if you really piss her off.  Redheads are like that, you know . . . or at least the one I'm married to is.  

We're all victims or beneficiaries of our ancestry when it comes to behavior - but only to a degree.  Yeah, we might have a genetic tendency to get mad easily, but socialization has more to do with it.  I'm living proof of that.  I got chewed on some by my parents while still living in their house (even some after I moved away), but I'm a product of careful social manipulation.  I don't know what caused it, but I was born with a burning desire to be absolutely worthless.  My guess is that I would've ended up just as worthless as I wanted to be, had it not been for their efforts to turn me away from it.  And it took a lot of money, time, and patience because I was a reluctant participant in any movement toward my betterment.

I won't bore you with a bunch of pointless bullshit about what a rowdy kid I was, but here are a few examples.  I spent five years and three summer schools in high school, only to get kicked out just two weeks before graduation.  My parents had to hustle around and get me in another school so I could graduate and go to college.  Actually, my mother used her influence as an educator to get me into a situation where I made up high school work while I attend college as a freshman.  A year later, my dad missed Sunday morning services (he was the pastor) getting my sorry ass out of jail - arrested for DUI and other charges.  A car crash a  year after than nearly snuffed me out, and that cost them a small fortune.  But I finally settled down - when I was forty.  By then, I already had 15 years of college teaching under my belt and had a good career going.  Then I ended up in rehab for alcohol and drug abuse, got divorced, and started a new life as a sober adult.  

Did I say adult?  Shit, I was forty.  Do you know how hard it is to go through puberty in your forties?  And my poor mama had to live through that with me.  My dad died when I was forty-two, so he missed out on yet another life crisis for me.  When I got married again at the age of 48, my mother looked at me and said, "I'm not coming to any more weddings, got it?"  She loved my first wife - a lot - and was terribly disappointed in me for giving up on that marriage.  But she never said a word about it.  She knew that some people just don't respond to bites, and she did what she always did for me and that was to love me through it.  I think she really believed that you could love a kid through anything, that nothing was too bad to overcome love . . . if you had enough of it.

Dealing with a rowdy dog takes something out of you, just like it does dealing with a rowdy kid.  And I do what I'm socialized to do. Yeah, I can bite when I need to, but I've also been socialized to love.  I have a dog that still gets into trouble sometimes 'cause she's rowdy, but she's never more than a few feet away from me.  She's my buddy, my sidekick, and she loves me unconditionally.  Dogs don't give a shit how much of an asshole you are, as long as you treat them well.  It's a simple lesson.  Treat a dog with love, and it responds with love.  They don't think about it, just do it . . . and that's something people can't do.  We try to reason our way through life, and that means we've pretty much lost the ability to love unconditionally.  

There is a bond between the person and the animal that's special, and there's much to be learned from it.  If we paid better attention, we'd see that.  Animals are dependent upon us for quite a few things, but it's not just a one way street.  We get something back from them that's very important because we learn something about ourselves . . . if we pay attention.  My love for a dog is not wasted in that the dog gives back what I give it , and more.  My love for my children and grandchildren and friends is likewise not wasted, even though at times it seems to be.  It takes time for love to make the circle, come back to us.  If my parents were alive today and could see me surrounded by people and animals who love me, they'd see how their plan for me worked out.

Better late than never, huh?  I won't live to see my investment in people come full circle, but that is of no consequence to how the deal works.  I don't need to see it.  I just need to believe it works in the long run.  And you see, that's what makes me a heeler person.  And sometimes, I'm not bad with people either.

C. Duhon,  10/11/07