Why do people insist on keeping huskies as pets? They are working dogs and should only ever be found pulling a sled somewhere within the Arctic Circle. But no, let's keep them as a domestic pet because they look so noble (though I cannot see the attraction myself). They are pack animals and need to quickly sort out their place in the sled team. They jockey for position, standing over other dogs, chest out, evil wolf eyes issuing a challenge. They can be very intimidating and difficult to handle (which may explain why so many find themselves abandoned at the local pound). Then there is the problem of their owners. What a pretentious clique of dog snobs they are. Even worse are the ones who adopted their Husky from the pound. They have the added attitude of self-righteous smugness; convinced of their moral superiority for saving a poor abandoned dog from a lethal injection.
My bulldog Bert and I have an ambivalent relationship with Huskies. It all goes back a couple of years to the first time we met Jeannie and Max at the local fenced dog park. Bert was enjoying himself, playing with his friend Humphrey (an English Bull Terrier with one blue eye, the other brown). Jeannie and Max came in, and Jeannie proceeded to ignore what Max was doing, and walked around talking on her mobile. Max came over and stood over Bert, clearly challenging him. Bert did not like this one little bit. He may be a small dog, but he has a big personality. He is completely fearless and does not take kindly to large dogs assuming his size makes him a pushover (he has taken on Rottweilers, Rhodesian Ridgebacks, Great Danes, and Irish Wolfhounds). So almost immediately it was on for young and old. I dragged Bert off, and with one leg tried to keep Max at bay. During all this Jeannie did absolutely nothing. Over the following months I witnessed similar incidents time and time again. Soon Max had a very poor reputation, and Jeannie's was even worse. People got sick of her complete inability, and unwillingness, to control Max and started to ask her to do something about Max's poor behaviour. But as far as Jeannie was concerned Max did not have a problem, he was just misunderstood.
It all came to a head one Saturday morning when Max started to mess with a small Fox Terrier called Cody. Cody's owner is an elderly lady called Dawn. She is one tough old bird. I like to imagine that in her day she was the local SP bookie and queen of the black market. She told Jeannie to control Max and stop him tormenting Cody. Jeannie snapped back and called Dawn a f***** bitch. Well Dawn would have none of that and told Jeannie a few home truths (Dawn told me all this a few minutes later, sitting next to me, puffing away on her fag, and smacking me on the arm to emphasise every point). Then, for some reason, Jeannie decided to walk past us as she led the park. Max came straight at Bert and tried to attack him. I had now had enough. With a good dose of sarcasm I asked her why she didn't even try to control her dog. She initially looked surprised, but then got stuck into me. How dare I complain, I was just one of those Saturday people, while she and Max come everyday. For some reason, It also offended her that I tend to sit on the same seat every week. She was quite irrational, and revealed a very nasty side to her personality.
I reported her behaviour to a dog trainer who, it turned out, had worked with both Bert and Max. She told me that several people had complained to her about Max. As far as I was concerned that was the end of it. I avoided Max when possible, and completely ignored Jeannie. I witnessed a couple more of her outbursts, and heard stories of others. People started calling her, among other things, Max's psycho owner. Then they seemed to disappear and I did not see them again for a couple of months.
But then one Saturday morning Bert and I arrived at the park early. I saw Max nearby, but thought it best to ignore him. We came through the gate and I bent down to let Bert off his lead. Suddenly Max was right there, doing his very best to get in Bert's face. I grabbed Bert and started to move off, but we had hardly moved when Jeannie appeared and started to yell at me "you arsehole". She then turned to a complete stranger and said "this is Bert's dad, he's an arsehole". I asked her why she was being so horrible. She denied the charge, but I pointed out the obvious evidence to the contrary: she had just told a complete stranger I was an arsehole. "Everyone thinks you're mad" she said. "I'd prefer people think I'm mad, rather than vile, horrible, and rude" replied I. She was completely out of control, and making an absolute fool of herself. Eventually I took a very ungentlemanly line and told her to piss off. This time I reported her directly to the local council.
The city council could not do anything about Jeannie's behaviour, that would be a matter for the police. Nor could they really do anything about Max without a park ranger seeing him in action. But during my discussion with the council officer, my former complaint was mentioned. It turned out that the dog trainer had informed the council of my original encounter with Jeannie and Max. The council did not have my contact details and could not follow it up. But there had been other complaints which they did investigate. Then I realised what had happened. Someone else had complained about Max, and Jeannie thought it was I. That explained her nasty reaction to me. What a loser.
Since then I hardly ever saw Jeannie and Max. I still heard stories about her appalling behaviour, and she remained very unpopular with many of the regulars at the dog park. However, she did seem to realise that she must take control of Max. A few months ago I noticed she was using treats and other training techniques to keep Max in check. She even called out to him once to "leave Bert alone" as she distracted him away with a treat. But this morning things took a turn for the worse.
Bert and I went to the park as usual, and there were already four other Huskies there. What was going on; is today some sort of Husky holiday? They were trying to sort out the pecking order of all the other dogs in the park, and generally making a pest of themselves. But their owners where just oohing and aahing over their precious darlings. Then Jeannie arrived, this time with three Huskies. She opened the gate and let all three in, but then went back to her car for a couple of minutes, and completely ignored what these three dogs where up to. So with seven Huskies now at large, I fetched Bert, put his lead on, and sat down to wait for the Husky invasion to withdraw. But Jeannie seemed to feel emboldened now that she was surrounded by her kind of dog, and her kind of people. Max came over and aggressively stood over Bert. Jeannie did nothing. I told Max to clear off, and tried pushing him away from me and Bert. Eventually the miserable old crone called off her unlikable wolf… sorry, Husky
A few minutes later Jeannie went back to her car. She left Max and the other two Huskies unattended on the other side of the park. I thought it was completely irresponsible of her to leave three Huskies alone and unsupervised in the park, particularly as one has a track record of aggressive behaviour. Eventually Jeannie came back into the park, but not soon enough to see and pick up the big pooh Max did while she was gone.
That was enough for me, so I decided to take Bert to another park. As we left I glanced over at Jeannie. She was watching us, a smug smirk on her face. It was as if she felt that, surrounded by seven Huskies, she had won. I just laughed at her pathetic behaviour. I also laughed as I remembered what a friend recently said of Jeannie: she is looking more and more like Max every day. It is true. Her hair is the same colour, and pretty much the same length. Also, as Max got older, he filled out and became quite solid. So has Jeannie. But at least Max does not try squeezing himself into lycra: it's not a good look.
The other park was a great success by the way. It is unfenced, so Bert is not likely to get hassled by any other Huskies, let alone Max: Husky owners are far too responsible to take the risk of their precious darling doing a bolt back into the wild. Even better, with any luck, I will never see the horrible Jeannie ever again.
