~ A Scary Situation ~

 

One morning, the dogs that came in were all regulars and were well-known to all of the counselors. This was an active and fun bunch, sometimes rowdy, but never any problem. I was alone with the dogs today. Everybody else was busy in other parts of the building. This had never happened before. There was no one in the camp lobby, no one in the grooming area, no one in sight of the playroom. Oh, I’d been alone in the playroom many times, as had other counselors, but this was the first time any counselor had been virtually isolated with the dogs. I was not concerned. I knew each of these dogs very well.

They were all big dogs: Maggie, the Great Dane; Diablo, the Shepherd mix; Spike, the Weimaraner; Boomer, the German Shorthair mix; Lady, another German Shorthair mix; and Casper, another Shepherd mix.

It was about mid-morning and the dogs were all very busy, playing in groups of two or three. This was normal behavior. After a few minutes, things got interesting.

It was incredibly rare for all of the dogs, on any day, to be playing one game together, but they were doing it now. They were all racing round and round the room as a loose pack, having a good ol’ time for several minutes. Suddenly something else started happening. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was, but the atmosphere had changed. I could feel it.

Instead of the whole group just racing around, five of the six dogs now seemed to have become an organized pack. That pack had targeted Maggie for some reason or other. She’d been racing with them, but they seemed now to be actually chasing her. They were all barking and poking at her, and she was becoming a little bit nervous. I had no idea what the goal of the five was, but I didn’t like this at all. Maggie liked it even less, and that could easily turn quickly into a disaster.

I couldn’t tell you the precise moment the race turned into the chase, but I knew I had to stop it, and I had to stop it instantly. I got on the walkie-talkie and requested immediate help. I really couldn’t wait for back-up to arrive, though. I was on my own here, and it was not a comfortable feeling. I wasn’t afraid, but I was a little apprehensive. I absolutely had to do something immediately.

I had the can of Citronella for use in extreme emergencies. I didn’t want to use it. It was getting pretty close, but we were not to the critical point just yet. I didn’t want to let the situation reach that critical point. So far, it was only to the this-is-obviously-not-good point, requiring prompt action, but not extreme enough for the Citronella spray.

While nobody appeared to be seriously aggressive yet, I really feared for Maggie—both what they might do to her and what she might do to them if she got any more upset than she was at that moment. Nothing for it but to wade through the pack and physically break them up.

I started calling dogs by name, spraying the water bottle at everybody, trying to slow them all down, and get them away from Maggie. They did slow down a bit, but they were still in a tight bunch and still barking at her. Large as she was, Maggie was, after all, still a puppy. It was obvious she was a becoming more than a little upset with being surrounded with no safe haven in sight. She was trapped against the wall.

I pushed dogs aside right and left with no threats from the pack and was able to get close enough to Maggie to calm her down a bit. When the other dogs were forced away from her, I managed to get a lead around her neck. For her own safety, and to re-direct the rest of the dogs, I figured my best option at that point was to place Maggie in protective custody and take her out of the room.

By the time I got the other dogs away from her and pulled her out of the fray, the feeling of impending doom had gone down by several degrees and help had arrived. The other counselors had certainly not been slow to respond. They got back to the camp area almost immediately. The situation in the playroom had just happened incredibly fast.

Maggie was taken out of the room and put in the kennel area until she could calm down. The rest of the dogs needed to calm down as well. So did I.

The pack had broken up and the dogs were back to playing in smaller groups. Maggie had been out for about twenty minutes. We decided to bring her back now that we had three counselors in the playroom. The three of us kept a very close and wary eye on everybody.

It was like nothing had ever happened. The dogs had forgotten the whole thing, even Maggie. She was busy running with Diablo. Lady and Boomer were chasing the ball. Spike and Casper were playing Tuggie. Things ran smoothly for the rest of the morning.

The crisis, if it really was a crisis, was over. Could it have been my imagination? No. I didn’t think so at the time, and I don’t think so today. Something decidedly unpleasant had been going on.

I wasn’t afraid for my own safety with these dogs, even when they were acting as a pack. I admit, though, that the sudden and completely unexpected mob mentality I saw in my charges that day set my nerves on edge. I was more than a little relieved when reinforcements arrived.

We had been told back during our training that Corporate felt only one counselor was needed for every twenty dogs. Someone had disagreed and argued that one was not enough. It would be difficult for a single counselor to monitor that many dogs because dogs, being dogs, could get out of hand. Luckily, Corporate had listened to reason.

Twenty to one odds in favor of the dogs was flat-out just plain risky. It was never more evident than on this day when I was dealing with only six dogs.

The walkie-talkies were seldom used. Most of the time, when we used them it was to call another counselor into the playroom so whoever was already in there could take a break. That day, however, the walkie-talkies had been invaluable and had definitely served their intended function. I was glad we had them.

This particular incident was so unusual that it will stand out in my mind for a long, long time as being just a little bit scary. That was the last time any counselor was left in such a truly isolated situation.

I was also more than thankful I had not had to resort to the Citronella spray.

 

Dogs never hold a grudge, an attribute we should all take to heart.