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 | Loving a Dog that Bites
by Mary E. Clabby |
During the year our adopted daughter, Jane, turned 9, she had to deal with the decision we had made as a family to part with two adopted dogs that were biting.
Previously, Jane had been diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder, or RAD, a disorder many adopted and abandoned children have, caused by high levels of stress hormones produced in the brain as a result of insufficient bonding during the pivotal bonding years of infancy.
Jane came to us malnourished at 13 months of age from Guatemala. The physical signs of benign neglect were evident. The emotional signs were about to explode upon us. Jane herself was a “biter” — not so much literally, however; she was argumentative, confrontational, manipulative and destructive. Jane lied unabashedly. She had made few friends at school and alienated her own brothers and sister at home. She created chaos and frustration wherever she went. We were constantly at odds with her fiery temper, her unending attempts at control and her cruelty toward others. She seemed incapable of understanding what it took to be part of a family. Jane was incapable of trusting anyone or anything.
In an attempt to help her forge a bond with someone or something she could love, we adopted a black Labrador named Jet. We felt that by loving and caring for a dog, Jane would be more responsible, compassionate and human. And when Jet arrived, Jane fared well. She became gentle and affectionate toward him. Jet, however, turned out to be difficult to control, lunging at and biting anyone close by, especially Jane. On top of the bad behavior, Jet weighed 40 pounds at only 4 months old. He was beyond our control.
Luckily, a family with older teenage boys accustomed to large, unruly dogs stepped in to adopt him from us. We were greatly relieved.
Jane, however, was devastated. She loved Jet. Not only did she miss him, but her place in the family had sunk to the bottom. As her behavior could also be considered uncontrollable, at least Jet’s was always worse than hers.
As a result, Jane’s behavior became worse including frequent 20-minute temper tantrums and growing disciplinary problems at school. We wasted little time adopting another dog; this time a seemingly calm 2-year-old female husky mix from a nearby shelter. Skye proved at first to be a perfect companion for Jane, yet was fiercely protective of her and soon gave in to biting neighbors and attacking the few friends Jane had made.
By this time, we were thoroughly defeated. Raising difficult Jane and our three biological teenagers and an attack dog proved overwhelming. We admit to throwing in the towel once again — in the dog ring, that is. We brought Skye back to a local humane society shelter.
Now we were dogless and anticipating the worst from Jane. She cried about Skye and Jet, as we all did. And as our children had hardened themselves to her antics, Jane now had no one. It was soon after Skye was gone that we realized Jane’s behavior and attitude began to unexpectedly improve. Jane calmed down. She became compliant instead of defiant and grew kinder toward her siblings and playmates. She had fewer temper tantrums.
I wondered, did the dog related events lead to some realization, touch some nerve in her? How had she internalized the whole thing? I decided to confront her about it — carefully.
One day as Jane and I hiked to her favorite place, a frog pond on a nature conservancy, she confided in me her feelings about Jet and Skye.
“I was so afraid when Jet and Skye went away,” Jane said sadly.
“Why so afraid?” I asked. Tears started to fill up her deep brown eyes.
“Because you can still love a dog that bites, can’t you? But you have to send it away or it will hurt you too much,” she said. I remember plump tears running down her dusty cheeks onto the gravel. She fell silent then and grabbed my hand to hold.
I held my breath as she blurted out, “But, when we fight, Mom, you and I and Dad, and the kids — we can always start over and make it better, right?” My daughter and I hugged tight then as the words this mother will never forget tumbled out of Jane’s trembling little self. I hoped then and there that in her difficult struggle to exist in our family, Jane had found some lesson, some realization of the “forever-ness” of our family.
Today, Jane is doing well. She continues to become more resilient with some setbacks in her attitude and behavior. She’s doing well in school. Jane is solving her problems at home with her siblings without resorting to all-out wars. She makes dirt pies, plays a mean goalie on her soccer team and has friends. It feels like she has finally arrived so to speak. Oh, we still have an occasional temper tantrum, but Jane now has many more genuinely delightful moments of joy and affection that carry us far, so that we can on any day, if we have to, start over.
Mary E. Clabby is an elementary and special education teacher and writer. She lives in Middletown, N.J., with her husband and four children.
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