Anxiety – It can ruin your day – if you let it.

This is the Halloween season – a time when we claim it’s fun to be afraid. So, let’s take a look at some things which can strike fear in the heart of any man, or woman. Let’s take a brave look at anxiety. More specifically, let’s look at fear of the unknown.

Winnie-the-Pooh’s best friend, Christopher Robin, said, “You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” From Christopher’s perspective, the view of a child, even a short-in-stature, rotund, honey-seeking bear can change the world. Christopher and Winnie both sometimes doubted their own abilities to problem-solve and cope, but they firmly believed in each other’s strength and tenacity. So why can’t we all have such ‘fear-busting’ faith in ourselves? After all, when you’re feeling scared and anxious, as all of us do at times, ‘Who ya gonna call?”

Anxiety is one of those experiences we share with so many other warm-blooded creatures on this earth. We may think we have exclusive rights on anxiety, but that’s only our arrogance talking. I’d venture to say that every warm-blooded creature can relate to their own ‘blood running cold’ out of intense fear. So why can’t we cope with it in a healthier manner like so many of our fellow members of the animal kingdom? We refer to some animals as being “domesticated,” and we bring them into our lives as companions. Because, like us, such animals are social, tribal beings who cope best with their lives when they share their existence with others. From cats and dogs, to those creatures we label as ‘wild,’ the lions, tigers, and bears – many creatures improve their lives by seeking a way to share their world. We know joining forces makes reproduction possible, survival of the species and all, and it helps keep those mouths fed. But, also consider that part of the reason why animals band together, forming purposeful relationships, is that it helps them deal with their experience of anxiety. If you’ve ever left a dog alone in the house for a few hours and returned to find your pet busily re-potting your houseplants, you may have asked yourself ‘Why, oh why?’ The answer – ANXIETY.

Anxiety is to a very large extent just fear. Often, the worst anxiety one experiences is not fear of something specific, something identifiable, but a fear of the unknown. As any horror movie illustrates, fear of the unknown is always much more frightening than fear of the known. When I was a child, my fear of the bogeyman hiding under my bed was much scarier than any movie monster. When you’re facing Dracula or Frankenstein, you know that what you see is what you’ll get. So, logic may suggest just destroy those ‘Draculas’ and ‘Frankensteins’ plaguing you. But, if your plan is to rid your life of anything and everything that causes you anxiety – you’re doomed to fail. Because, with an irrational fear of the unknown, which for many of us is our preferred brand of anxiety, the terrible possibilities are endless. There is an up-side to this discussion. Although we cannot control much, if anything, in our lives, we can control how we react, how we respond to our anxious feelings. Managing anxiety is like managing anger – you learn ways to live with it, not how to eliminate it.
So though it may seem like you’re being followed as you take a short-cut down that poorly-lit alley, it’s probably just your anxiety – or is it?

More on anxiety to come. Have a fun and safe Halloween.

Somebody, please – help me be a better puppy parent

I think I need help being a better puppy parent.  We have a 9-month-old puppy in the family, Rex, a male Beabull (1/2 Beagle & 1/2 English Bulldog).  He really doesn’t ask all that much of me.  However, lately he’s let me know many times that I’m falling short when it comes to giving him the attention, love, holding, etc., that he wants.  Rex lets me know I’m not attending to him properly in multiple ways.  There’s the ever-so-subtle, very sharp, puppy bark.  The barks may be few, such as when something happens to capture his attention, or the barks can be many – unending until I give in, stop whatever I’m doing, and let this almost 40-pound dog pretend he’s a lap dog.  Then there’s the lengthy whine, often high-pitched, piercing, and one which makes you wonder if your neighbors are now certain you have begun the nightly beating of your dog (kidding, of course).  Who would have thought so much drama could be communicated by a whine.  If these methods don’t work, Rex gets really creative and finds new and better ways to be annoying, destructive, or just amazingly cute, all of which are done to capture your attention.

I’ve finally accepted that in my relationship with Rex, he’s the ‘giver,’ and I’m the ‘taker.’  Oh sure, I make sure he’s fed, bathed, walked, etc.  But he’s the one always offering unending affection and unconditional acceptance.  My moody self can be flighty as the wind – loving one minute and an iceberg the next.  Now don’t get me wrong, neither of us in this relationship is without his faults. So, lets look at Rex’s shortcomings.  He has that Beagle stubbornness, which can really try your patience.  When he picks up a scent he likes, his ears turn off, his eyes focus only on whatever has captured his interest, and I become non-existent and irrelevant.  What about dogs being pack animals, what about my being the ‘alpha dog’?  All of that goes out the window when Rex smells something interesting. Apparently, I’m just the ‘means to an end’ for Rex.

Rex has that cute Beagle face, you know, the big brown eyes, floppy rounded ears, and the ever-sniffing nose.  Everywhere we go, people respond to him and seem to immediately adore him.  Women always smile, often stopping whatever they are doing to pet him.  I’ve seen women walking, even romantically strolling, with the one they love, pause and react to Rex’s presence.  I’ve seen women stop their conversation, release the hand they are holding, to speak to me and say, “What a cute dog.  Can I pet him?”  I wish I had half of my dog’s magnetism – animal or whatever its origin.  I often see men doing the same, commenting on how cute my dog is, saying it in their most masculine tone of voice.  I often don’t get it – Rex is just a puppy.  I grew up in a household with pets (cats & dog), and when I was a pre-teen, we had various creatures in (guinea pigs) or outside (a rabbit) the house.  I know the attraction of household pets.  However, what is it that happens when you walk a puppy down the street causing others to go out of their way to get some ‘puppy time’? I just took Rex out for his last walk of the night. I planned to get him, do the deed, and get back in – you know, a clandestine manuever. Wouldn’t you know it, we were mobbed by dogs and people in the elevator. When we got outside, other dog owners, not content to just enjoy the companionship with their own dogs, began with the questions, “What a cute dog – What is he, a boy or a girl, What’s his name, Isn’t that darling,” etc., ad nauseam.  I guess you’d have to have an extraordinarily ugly or viciously mean dog to be able to take a walk and be left alone.  Don’t get me wrong, many times I get a real kick out of the attention, but, at other times, I just wanna be left alone.  Do I sound jealous of all the instant love and affection Rex gets?  You bet your dog biscuit I am.  Anyway, Rex is worth his weight in gold.  And if you have a dog, or even a cat, I’d bet you’d say the same about your pal.

Grief and Loss in our Daily Lives

Until recently I never thought much about the many ways grief and grieving impacts our daily lives – I’m referring to grief not associated with a terminal illness or recent death. Despite my education and training, I looked at grief and loss in a somewhat narrow way as only happening in preparation for a death, or following someone’s death. My education in psychology gave me the structure of seeing that there are stages of grief and loss, i.e., denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance (Kubler-Ross, 1969). However, I still saw those stages as only related to someone passing away. Actually, we grieve many, many things unrelated to a death. For example, when we don’t meet a goal we set, we grieve. When we acknowledge the loss of our youth, we grieve. When we have to face serious illness in ourselves or others, we grieve the loss of good health.

Grief is one of the most difficult human experiences, in my opinion. I remember my fascination when I learned a college roommate had never been to the funeral of a close family member. I had multiple memories of family funerals, from my grandfather, grandmother, great-aunt, great-uncle, great-grandmother, and so on, as well as having heard about family funerals I was too young to recall attending. I vividly recall attending the funeral of my high school best friend who had passed away suddenly in a motor vehicle accident. Losing him at that time was an experience unlike any other at that point in my youth – I was 17 and had never considered the possibility that a friend could die.

Grief, however, is not always closely tied to a recent or impending death. We sometimes grieve over things which have never even happened. When we’re sad that our deceased grandmother never got to hold her newborn great-grandchild, we grieve. When we wish we would have made another career choice, we’re grieving over the loss of possibilities which will never be. Sometime our grief entails a compilation of what-was, what-never was, and what-never-will-be. Each particular type of grief has its own particular type of pain. When it seems that there is a combination of grief scenarios, the what-was, what-never-was, and what-never-will-be’s, it can seem especially tough to manage. The triggers or things which cue our grief can be many and multi-levelled in such a gathering of painful features. Even so, facing our pain, experiencing our losses, and contemplating our grief, painful as it is, remains a way to actually cope with what has happened. When we try to deny the significance of our hurtful feelings, when we refuse to see that our pain has had an impact and we need time to recover, we put ourselves at risk for leaving a wound open and unable to heal.

Although there is little if anything in life over which we truly have control, we can determine how we plan to start to cope with our loss, and how we’ll deal with our grief. In my work as a counselor, I’ve sometimes tried to compliment others on how well they appear to cope with loss and grief. I’ve often had others give me a bewildered look and thank me, but then tell me they really had no choice but to try their best to deal with their life. I’ve met people who have seen loss quite differently and have instead chosen not to cope – chosen to give up on ever again experiencing happiness or a sense of purpose in their life. Choosing to give up is never an answer, an emotional suicide of sorts, and really only prolongs pain, making it seem impossible to survive.

Grief is synonymous with change, and change means discomfort, or an absence of comfort. Let me know your views on coping with grief and loss – whatever the loss may be. If it’s a personal loss you are feeling, I wish you strength and peace. Consider writing about your experience as this can often help us heal. Please be well and take good care.

Why EVERYONE should have a pet.

Take a minute to hug your dog – I’m sure he kisses you every chance he gets.

Having a pet is a always a winning proposition. Some people will say they don’t have time to care for a pet, or they can’t afford the vet bills. However, the reality is that being a pet owner can only improve your life. Caring for a pet requires you to step outside yourself and love another being. A pet’s love for you is unconditional and ever so powerful. No matter how badly your day has gone, upon returning home, your awaiting pet will shower you with genuine, wholehearted affection. As a result, you become happier, healthier, and generally a better person.

In case you’re questioning my logic, let’s look at the anecdotal evidence-health benefits. Pet owners improve their health by interacting with their pets. Lowered blood pressure is one outcome of interaction with domesticated animals. Whether you are walking through a petting zoo or holding a furry family member, it’s just pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful to interact with a friendly animal.

Oxytocin, sometimes called the “love hormone,” is being studied to determine it’s role in social recognition, pair bonding, anxiety, and maternal behaviors (Wikipedia). Oxytocin is a neuromodulator, meaning it is a horomone which remains in the cerebrospinal fluid for an extended period of time, thereby exerting a longer influence on overall brain activity.

Recent studies have shown that after interaction with their pets, individuals have higher levels of Oxytocin in their bloodstream than if they have not had such an interaction with their pet. This research moves science toward finding measurable effects of human-animal interaction.

It is known that pet owners are in better physical health than those without pets. Further, pet owners are more likely to survive serious heart attacks than those without a pet in the home. Anecdotes on the benefits of companion animals are quite compelling, and the professional community is finally noticing. The Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute on Child Health and Devrlopment, part of the National Institute of Health, is examining whether service animals can tangibly benefit children’s well-being.

My Grandmother is a living testament to the fact that loving animals extends your life – both the quantity (length) and quality. Despite daily arthritis pain in many of her joints, she spends a significant portion of every day caring for/interacting with her dogs (English Bulldogs).

Pets teach us invaluable life lessons, such as, how to be happy, how to treat others well, and how to enjoy every moment. Why would anyone not want to learn to live these lessons? So, don’t forget – hug that pet!

Vital Information for Seniors: A Long-Term Care Survival Guide

This post is the first in a series on surviving in a long-term care facility (a.k.a., nursing home).
CHAPTER ONE: RESPECT – STAFF RESPECTING RESIDENTS/RESIDENTS MAINTAINING THEIR SELF-RESPECT
I’ve meant to write this for a long while. Where do I begin? What happened to respecting our elders?
I confess, in both my personal life and my profession, I like (even enjoy) talking/socializing with Senior Citizens. Apparently this puts me in a very unusual, small group of people. I’ll call us, Senior-Likers (SL’s). Further, I am not afflicted with gerontophobia (fear of old people), which is apparently pervasive in our society.

For some seniors, many times through no fault of their own, it is no longer possible to live safely in their private homes. Their health has deteriorated, their independence is gone, and they need help safely carrying out their activities of daily living.  Therefore, some seniors must enter a living arrangement where their health and well-being are protected, such as a long-term care facility.

As a mental health professional specializing in Gerontology, and an SL, I spend many hours providing my services in rehab/nursing facilities. Unfortunately, these settings are usually populated with mature adults, many of whom are quite vulnerable (the reason they are there). These adults must rely upon a “call light” to signal staff designated to come to their aid. Unfortunately, many times they end up waiting long periods for help with bodily functions which cannot wait (i.e., toileting). So why are there staff, who are there to help, who DON’T or WON’T help?  Given such a scenario, maintaining one’s self-respect, dignity, and sense of independence can become quite challenging.

Consider that dependent seniors must then rely upon others to meet needs they have likely med independently since early childhood, i.e., toileting.  Unfortunately, those staff upon whom they rely are sometimes simply ‘job applicants,’ and I use the term loosely, who even McDonald’s won’t consider hiring. Like most of us they must work for a living. But unlike most people in helping positions, their love of humanity ends with themselves. I personally do not come from wealth and high social class, and I can relate to sometimes holding jobs where the pay was my sole motivation to go to work. However, shouldn’t we draw lines when our less than fulfilling, even unpleasant, job duties involve assisting others with very intimate activities of daily living?  Before going on I must acknowledge that there are exemplary caregiving staff who are respectful, caring, and who make an incredible effort to help those they serve feel respected.

What’s a possible solution/answer to caring for others respectfully, even when the duties involve unpleasant, yet essential acts of caregiving?  It seems very apparent.  ”Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” the Golden Rule. Simple, easy to remember, even wise advice, I dare say. Are we SL’s the only ones remembering this adage?

More entries will follow soon.  Please share your thoughts on the topics discussed.  I greatly appreciate your feedback on these important issues.

What is an illegal alien anyway…isn’t it me?

Why do so many Americans worry about our border security?  Don’t we claim to welcome others to our shores?  The inscription on the Statue of Liberty reads, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
I certainly acknowledge that this inscription was put there by the French, who gave us the statue.  But what a great ideal our French friends seemed to suggest we pursue.  My great-grandfather emigrated to this country from Switzerland in 1913.  So I think he was living out the message put on the statue.  He accepted the invitation to try to better himself and his life in another land.  I don’t know how he made such a move, but I’m glad he did.  I know he came here following his brother who had previously made the transition.  But, anyway, I digress.

Apparently it’s been confirmed, our President was born in Hawaii.  He released his birth certificate to the media.  Someone in Hawaii looked at the original on file there.  Even more compelling evidence exists, someone born during the same time period, who was in an adjoining crib in the same hospital, claims to remembers him being there.  I wish I had such recall abilities.

Why all the fuss?  Illegal alien presidents?  Border jumpers causing chaos?  Please don’t insult my intelligence.  If you will allow me, I must play the ‘race card’ at this point.  It’s the only logical common thread in these seemingly unrelated events.  The defenders of Caucasian mainstream culture can’t tolerate White women talking back (given institutionalized gender bias & domestic violence).  Therefore, it follows that people of color will be blocked at every point, in any way possible.  So, don’t you be fooled.  We’re just not there yet – we don’t really welcome the ‘huddled masses’.  But we could, and we can – one open-minded, objective person at a time.  I hold onto my faith in our country, and I think we may get there someday.  We may actually accept diversity without fear.  Take care America and keep trying, cause we’re worth the effort.

It’s ok to hug your mother – It’s not ok to hug the mail carrier!

We’ve all encountered and/or known those people-the people who are a little too loose with their emotions. The stranger in church who takes full advantage of ‘Love thy neighbor.’ The person who, seemingly at the Pastor’s suggestion, hugs you way too hard and for far too long. The wedding guest who cops a feel while giving the bride a congratulatory hug. Just because you’re an invited guest, it doesn’t mean you have carte blanche to get your grope on.

And what about those TSA people who snap their latex gloves gleefully as they prepare to legally molest you? I thought the full-body scanner, by providing a peep-show view and risking the health of the travelling public, would eliminate the need for frisking. And why, by the way, must I hold my hands above my head, with my fingers in diamond-shape, for the scanner to work? Are we travellers just being made the butt of someone’s joke? Yesterday, for the first time, TSA staffers even asked that I remove papers from my pockets. It did take me back to my elementary school days though. I felt like when the teacher demanded to see the note I had written the pretty girl sitting in front of me. Hopefully body-scanning technology will be an improvement in safety measures. Last time I flew from Miami International, the TSA man seemed to enjoy loudly announcing to me that my luggage had tested positive for explosives.

Federal buildings create another opportunity for GED recipients, I mean Security staff, to potentially get to second base with those of a higher social class.

Maybe I’m too uptight about these things-too firmly entrenched in the priceless value of one’s personal space. If you’re reading this, Mr./Ms. TSA employee, Security professionals everywhere, please don’t take offense to my attempt at humor, but please do proceed doing your job with respect and gentleness. Not everyone thinks it’s a turn-on to be felt-up by strangers.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, Katy Perry is turning me into a Conservative music censor.

What has this world come to? I like Katy Perry as much as the next person. She’s young, attractive, perky, apparently has some amount of marketability. So why oh why does her current hit ask the question, “Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?” Has she no shame whatsoever?
Maybe I’m out-of-date, but I still believe a song should have the lofty aspiration of elevating the human experience-at least a little. Even ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Happy Birthday to You’ seek to express a sentiment and add to our culture’s wide range of artistic works. What does a song about recyclables which uses the metaphor, “Baby you’re a firework! … Boom, boom, boom!”
I am middle-aged now, 47, and I was raised to appreciate Country music, with all of its twang, ladies with big, helmet-like hairdos, and men in cowboy boots, wearing too tight blue jeans with belt buckles which can pick up satellite tv broadcasts. Given that background on me, I’m hardly an uptight, classical purist. I love good music of all genres. But please, music industry executives, if you read this, no more encouragement of attaching emotion to garbage. Anyway, I’m off to karoake, a serious passion of mine. Keep on singing everyone.
MORE TO COME.

Was my Grandfather an Alcoholic?

I never even considered the possibility that my grandfather had a problem with alcohol.  At least, not until he told me his doctor said he had done so much damage to his liver he couldn’t even drink diet pop.  I was shocked at this revelation.  He had never said anything before to me to suggest that he had done anything in the least bit self-destructive.  As he told me this during a brief conversation, he never used the word ‘alcoholic’ or ‘alcoholism.’  He just said that he couldn’t drink pop or anything stronger.  I thought about this conversation for a long time and I had a hard time making sense of it, given my experiences with my grandfather.  I had never seen him drunk or in any apparent way impaired by alcohol.  The more I thought about it though, when I visited him at home, he always had a certain 12oz. glass within reach, and I knew it held rum and coke.  He had a bar set up in the corner of the dining room.  It was liquor bottles and pop bottles on top of an attractive wood piece of furniture.  I always thought of it as a classy, antique or some sort, with its purpose unknown to me.  To me it signified his leisure time and one of his famous collected items, as he was a collector. 

It was at some point late in grammar school that it really began to sink in that he had had another life before he was my grandfather, and my grandmother’s husband (common-law).  Now, looking back, I see he was an alcoholic and he apparently soothed his unresolved pain with alcohol, I guess.  At his funeral I read a poem chosen by my grandmother, his wife, who adored him.  My grandfather adored her too, and I never heard him say anything bad or even passive-aggressive about her.  The way they loved and accepted each other is an example I’m glad I witnessed, as they taught me about loving and respecting others.  Anyway, at my grandfather’s funeral, his daughter and her sons were there.  As was his sister and her husband.  His daughter, who we have always had sporadic contact with, told us that her mother kept she and her brother away from their father (my grandfather).  She said that her mother told them that their father wanted nothing to do with them.  His daughter told me one way she later found out this was not true was when she saw that my grandfather faithfully paid child support until she and her brother were adults, while their mother was at the same time saying he had abandoned them. 

Long story short, anyway, yes, my grandfather was an alcoholic.  I guess you could say a functional alcholic.  I say that because he always paid his bills, kept his long-term job, took care of elder family members, and treated my grandmother and everyone in our family with love and kindness.  I’m in no position to judge anyone, and I don’t write this to in any way judge him.  I write this to let others know that people can be alcoholics, addicts, whatever and still love those they care about.  Being the ‘adult grandchild of an alcoholic’ does not mean anything to me other than to sound kind of silly.  Alcoholics, like anyone else, are all different, and trying to group them with labels is generally not helpful or fair.  As a counselor/licensed therapist I see the value in those terms (i.e., alcoholic, addict, etc.).  But I also know it’s best to keep those terms in the proper perspective, because they refer to people, not things to be described simply with a trite label. 

My grandfather was a loving person, an imperfect person, but a person who cared about others and wanted to treat them with kindness.  He may not have been my ‘biological’ grandfather, but he was all I would have ever wanted him to be.  I was a very young child when he entered my life, and, until he died of prostate cancer, I could not think of a time in my life when he wasn’t there for me.   He’s been gone a year now, and I often think of him.  I miss him and may he rest peacefully. 

Peace to you all, and be kind to yourself and others.  I’m trying to be better at doing that myself - like my grandfather.

My Grandmother

They say write about what you know-I know my grandmother. As long as I can remember she’s been my hero, my comrade, my ally. In many important ways she’s always made sense to me. Throughout my life she’s been a force of good in my life. When I was a child, she always made me feel loved, smart, talented, and special. I cannot recall a single time when she raised her voice or in any way seemed angry with me. As I started school, she shared her love of learning with me and gave me the appetite for knowledge that still spurs my intellectual growth today. The annual trips she and I made to buy my new school clothes were magical times for me. The magic was in the knowledge that our trips were, without fail, times when I felt understood, and when I knew disappointment was not even a possibility.

She was the only elder in my life who could genuinely relate to my college experiences. She made course suggestions, only when I asked, and her ideas were right on-the-mark, as she knew me as well as I knew her. She knew I wanted and needed a higher education and an associated career, unlike any of my male elders.

I could go on and on with the accolades, and today I feel so very fortunate my grandmother is still a vital presence in my life. However, sometimes my grandmother leaves me experiencing two contradictory emotions-joy that she’s here, and fear of the day she’ll be gone.

My grandmother lives life as she chooses to, except for losing my Grandfather to prostate cancer, and the arthritis pain that hinders her mobility.  Her independence and relative self-sufficiency is truly something to be thankful for, and we, her family, are thankful.  However, we are also very afraid.

Home Alone:  My grandmother lives alone, in a 75+ year old farm house, 7 miles from her closest relative, my mother.  The house has one bathroom, which is on the second floor, atop a narrow set of 13 potentially deadly stairsteps. But this is how my grandmother wants it.  My parents suggested she move into town, where the snowdrifts get cleared by the street maintenance workers.  In town, where she would have neighbors nearby who would help watch out for her safety and well being.  In town, where she could live in an efficient, temperature-controlled, modern and fully functional home.  My grandmother scoffed at these ideas.  We tried to compromise, suggesting she tear down the farmhouse and bring in a modular, pre-constructed home, to go on the exact same spot of land.  Again she scoffed, stating that the farmhouse was good enough for her.  In the winter, when the wind blows, her pipes often freeze.  That is, unless she remembers to turn on a fan and set it to blow through a hole in the wall behind a bookcase.  I could expound upon the many quirks and potential dangers of this ancient farmhouse but I think you get the point.

Driving:  My grandmother has a current driver’s license.  Last year she had to renew her license.  She had to take the eye exam, the written test, and the driving test.  She passed them all.  Well, the eye test she passed by seeing her own opthalmologist and having him certify the acuity of her eyesight – she said she could not see through her glasses into the eye testing machine at the DMV.  Last year, on a windy day, she said the wind took the car and she hit the side of a bridge while traveling at road speed.  She quickly regained control of the car and drove home.  The car suffered damage, but was drivable, and she was fine.  She had the car repaired and went on with her life.  While her car was in the repair shop, she drove my grandfather’s four-wheel-drive pickup.  Nothing and no one is going to limit the mobility and movements of my grandmother! Thankfully, my grandmother says she no longer drives at night.  Hopefully, she holds true to her word.  But what about all the other less than perfect drivers?  My grandmother is 89, with reflexes which have certainly been slowed by advanced age.  Could she drive defensively and avoid an impending accident caused by another driver?

Pets:  My grandmother has always loved animals, sometime to the point where I wonder if she loves creatures more than people.  Just kidding, but she almost lives for her dogs.  She has been raising and breeding dogs since before I was born.  It’s a passion of hers.  When I hear my mother say something to my grandmother about being alone on the farm, my grandmother always quickly responds by stating that she’s never alone with the dogs there.  However, these are 60+ pound English bulldogs.  These dogs can be gentle and great companion animals.  But I have also seen her spoiled, often unruly dogs, fight amongst themselves to the point where she has to break up their competitions to be the ‘Alpha’ dog.  Dogs get quite careless about where they are biting when their adrenaline is pumping and their instinctual, aggressive behaviors are at work.  What if they knocked down my grandmother and bit her?  Again, I worry.

MORE TO COME…