I was walking my German shepherd down the street, when a tan Chihuahua darted off a porch, racing toward us, barking and growling. I quickened my pace, hoping the feisty pup would tire out and return home. Instead, the dog continued after us and wandered into the middle of the road.
Up ahead, a delivery truck rounded the corner, barreling down the road, heading for the dog. Fearing the driver wouldn’t see the small animal in time, I stepped into the road, waved my arms, and yelled, “Stop! There’s a dog in the road.”
The driver saw me, slammed on his brakes and screeched to a halt. The Chihuahua tucked its tail and scurried back to the porch. A woman opened the front door. The dog disappeared inside.
“How irresponsible!” I grumbled, stamping my foot on the pavement. I believed the owner had behaved carelessly by leaving her dog outside unattended, allowing it to be almost killed.
But this was my neighbor. If I confronted her and made a scene, it could cause problems for me in the future.
On the other hand, if I kept quiet, the Chihuahua’s owner wouldn’t know how close her companion came to being killed. Next time her dog might not be so lucky.
In my childhood home, a cold, angry silence was the norm. We kept quiet.
But I was afraid to speak up. In my childhood home, we didn’t communicate. A cold, angry silence was the norm. When anything happened, we kept quiet. It wasn’t mentioned. It wasn’t discussed. It was as if it never happened.
I didn’t want to continue that pattern, so I decided to use this situation as an opportunity to practice my communication skills. If I wanted my neighbor to know what had happened to her dog, it was my responsibility to communicate that to her in a healthy, friendly manner.
I can say how I felt, but not how she
behaved, looked or acted.
Walking up to her porch, I reminded myself that to communicate effectively I have to state my expectations calmly and honestly. I simply state the events I witnessed without attacking or criticizing her. I can say how I felt, but not how she behaved, looked or acted.
I knocked on the door. My neighbor answered, and I relayed how her dog had chased after us, wandered into the street and was almost hit by the truck. I said it once and didn’t repeat myself. When I keep saying the same thing over and over, I am trying to control the conversation, and that was not what I wanted.
I stated the facts without telling her how it should be solved. I left the solution up to her, leaving a door open for her to come to terms with the problem.
I kept my voice low and pleasant. This was my neighbor. I would have to see her again. I didn’t want our conversation to get loud and angry with our emotions running high.
I listened to her response.
I also stuck to the issue at hand. Now was not the time to bring up about her sagging fence or the low-hanging branches on her oak tree. I didn’t want to confuse the issue or make it any worse than it was.
And I listened to her response. She explained how she was only away for a minute. I nodded, being respectful to her point of view.
When our conversation ended, she thanked me, and I finished my walk.
A couple of months later, I was walking my dog past her home, and she saw me. She waved and said, “Hello, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, waving back.
Over the years, we exchanged pleasantries on several more occasions, even discussing issues about our neighborhood, but I never saw her dog outside unattended again.
Effective communication helped me turn an unpleasant situation into a healthy exchange. Instead of starting a feud, I made a friend.