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.
3 responses to “My Neighbor’s Dog”
I only wish I could be as calm and clear as you were!
Way to go! It’s hard to keep your cool when you feel wronged! I’ll be honest, I probably would have kept walking. Good for you breaking free of patterns you didn’t like seeing in your past!
Yes!!! So proud of you for changing the narrative of your past!!!