Pride Goeth Before the Tiger

Pride Goeth Before the Tiger
by Tresa Martin

Inwardly, I still cringe a littlewhen I think of it. In those first few months after getting Heather, my Seeing Eye dog, I was so proud of my new independence and full of new determination to make my way in this world. I wasn't going to be afraid to stand up for my rights or humbly accept the role I felt many people wanted to saddle me with. When I completed the five-week training period with my new dog, I was sent on my way with a new self confidence and armed with the knowledge of my legal rights concerning the admission of my dog in public places. They warned us the dogs could initially be barred from entering, but to stick to our guns and insist the management check out the laws. We were assured that except for a very few prohibited areas, our furry guides and we had a perfect right to go anywhere we pleased.

At that time, my husband, my two-year-old son and I lived in Fort Worth, Texas. The zoo there is well known and a decent sized park. One afternoon, we decided our son needed to experience the sights and sounds, not to mention the smells, of this establishment. And yes, Heather, my golden retriever, was coming with us. Of course, the management argued vigorously. It could be dangerous. There was risk of disease to consider. It could be annoying to other patrons. The list went on and on. But we were young and full of righteous indignation. We had rights, by God!

So after much checking and phone calling, we were admitted. Heather was a perfect lady and adhered to her training beautifully. The smell of wild animals did not distract her, nor did the attention she received from passing admirers. I must admit I felt a bit smug that everything was going so well. Everything, that is, until we passed in front of the Bengal tiger's cage.

Suddenly, instead of walking sedately along the walkway, we had whipped off the path and were making a beeline for the tiger's cage at an alarming speed. The tiger screamed with newfound enthusiasm at this unexpected break in his mundane routine. My faithful companion, bless her heart, accepted the challenge with an equal enthusiasm and fierce protectiveness that was awesome to behold. Only problem was, I was still attached to the harness on her back. Heart pounding and alone, for my husband and son were still standing stunned on the path, I found myself face to face with the most frightening sounding creature I've ever had the misfortune to be close to, in my life. There were double bars spaced about four feet apart between us, but at the time I wasn't aware of this. I thought my time was out; my card was punched; my lease was up. Through my terror, I registered the fact that, around me, there was a collective intake of breath as a crowd quickly formed. And through it all, I never once realized that all I had to do was let go of the harness and back away. I was frozen. And Heather? She was truly awesome. Her ferociousness matched the tiger's. The obvious differences in their resources weren't exactly occurring to her.

By this time, which really wasn't the hours it felt like, my husband had gathered his wits and also our son. Ascertaining that there was really no threat, but realizing that I did not know this, he dragged my would-be defender and me back away from the bars. The tiger screamed with disappointment, Heather balked and growled deep in her throat, but we managed to get a safe distance away. After finally accepting the fact that my life was going to continue after all, my concern fell on my son. I just knew he would be terrified, but in the fashion consistent with small children, he was only mildly interested in the incident and mightily upset that his parents had decided now might be a good time to leave.

Now it is hard to slink effectively with a screaming child in tow. But Heather made it even more difficult. I guess a delayed reaction to the excitement hit her and she got the trots. So there we were, two red-faced adults, one screaming child, and a digestively challenged Seeing Eye dog. We tried sincerely to flee before anything else happened, a decidedly unattractive trail forming behind us. I'm sure the management had big fun with our shame. We never returned to that particular zoo and any visits we made to other zoos were minus one tiger-fighting, fireball of a dog.

Moral to the story? Sometimes rules are not just somebody's idea of ruining your day. And never, never walk directly behind a Seeing Eye dog who has just faced a Bengal tiger.