Bertha the most polite dog

Danny Doran

Clicks: 389

04/26/2018

Bertha is a protective dog. She guards her home as if she is defending her life. She barks alot. When strange cars and delivery vehicles enter the property, they are met with the wrath of Bertha. When guests come over, Bertha is usually kenneled (where she barks until the guests leave).

Additionally, Bertha doesn't really know how to be pet. Like other dogs wanting affection, Bertha will come to your side, or bury her face into you. When you go to pet her she will let herself fall to her back on the floor. Slowly, her agitation will increase, until she is growling softly and then, finally, she will hop to her feet, bark, and run off to find a toy. If you stop petting her before she goes off to grab a toy, she will get back up and bury herself into you.

Bertha also has a strange way of licking your face. It seems like she's trying to bite you, but really she just snaps her mouth when she extends to lick you. She's also gurring while she does it...

Over the years, the family has developed an image of Bertha as a loud, aggressive dog that is probably best left at home.

This is a story of how, one day, Bertha was called "the most polite dog" by a passer-by. To really understand this story, we are going to have to go back.

My father attended Catholic school when he was growing up. This may seem irrelevant, but, it adds to the story so stay with me. I don't want to put words in my father's mouth, but, the gist is that he didn't enjoy Catholic school. Something about bruised wrists and whatnot. So most important, he doesn't like nuns. They leave a sour taste in his mouth.

Flash forward to a few years ago. Bertha is one or two years old. Bertha, my father and myself are on a hike out the Mountain Loop. We have Bertha on leash, but, she is full of energy and being her usual self in that she is barking at everyone we encounter. This did not entertain two elderly woman we passed on the trail. I don't remember the exact details of what these two woman said, but they were harsh, and adamant that this dog was behaving very inappropriately. They may have told us that we should be ashamed of ourselves. Regardless, they thought Bertha was a nasty dog, and they were vocal about it. My father and I were taken back by how extreme their opinions were. He said to me afterwords, "Those two were so harsh, they were past kindergarten teacher...they may have even been Nun level!"

To summarize, Bertha is a strong, loud dog, who doesn't like strangers (or maybe she just loves to bark at them).

Two days ago, I took Bertha to Lord's Hill Park in Snohomish. After enjoying a dip in the river, we headed back to the car. During the last quarter mile stretch to the car, there was an elderly woman about 40 feet ahead of us. Bertha was off leash, but, healing beside me. The path is narrow, and bordered with thick foliage. A new woman is walking in our direction on the trail. She has two dogs with her. It's time to test Bertha's discipline. We intersect. Bertha freezes. One dog throws itself towards Bertha, held back only by the woman's tight grip on the leash. Bertha gives a low growl, but leaves it behind and catches up with me.

I'm relieved. It went well! Then I see the elderly woman ahead of us peeking backward with a disapproving look.

"Have I run into yet another nun?" I think to myself.

We've almost made it to the car. Yet another woman enters are way. She also has two dogs. She has stopped at the far end of a boardwalk, and is waiting for us to pass over. I throw Bertha on leash. The elderly woman makes it across the boardwalk. The dogs are at the ends of their leashes, hurling their animated bodies towards her. She smiles and pulls off to the side, which I assume is to let Bertha and I pass.

It's time to test Bertha again.

We're at the end of the boardwalk, and the two dogs are going crazy. They're howling, they're snarling and they are trying their best to get to Bertha. But she just stares them down as she trots by.

The woman with the two dogs is moving across the boardwalk now, and Bertha and I are passing the elderly woman. She still has a disapproving face.

"You know..." she says to me.

"Oh great..." I think to myself.

"...you're dog was the most polite dog out of those five."

It was the complete opposite of what I expected! It was a huge compliment! Bertha 'the most polite dog'. What a new image for her!

I was happy.

Fifteen minutes later Bertha wouldn't shut up at the McDonald's drive-thru window. Moment ruined. Way to go, Bert.

The End