Show No Fear

At some point during my childhood, I became obsessed with dogs. I went from being super fearful, to cautious, to ready-to-hug-every-dog-in-sight.

When I was about 7, my parents took me to Moscow for the first time. Honestly, I don’t remember much. I have vague memories of my great-aunt showing me around. I remember a great big boat on Moscow-River. I must have been in awe of that boat, because my great-aunt whispered to me – let’s take a look! To my horror, she quietly slipped on board (and I followed) – I was terrified we would get in trouble (we didn’t). I kind of remember the Red Square and being semi-disappointed that we wouldn’t go to the Mausoleum (to see Lenin’s body – in retrospect, I am glad we didn’t do that).

Moscow was not as crowded as I expected (I thought there would be shoulder-to-shoulder crowds everywhere) and while the subway was impressive, it didn’t feel more dramatic than the subway system in Kharkov (where my grandparents lived and where we visited every year). It’s possible that I went to museums and concerts there – but I don’t remember anything. 

What I remember most from that trip was walking the dog with my great-aunt. It was a great big German Shepherd – a no-nonsense kind of dog that did not seem cute or playful at all. It looked like it would gladly gobble me up. I remember my great-aunt explaining to me, very calmly and patiently, to look at the dog’s tail – how it was an indicator of the dog’s mood. She told me to never show that I was afraid. I remember walking around the shaded residential streets (“dvoriki”) in Moscow, with my great-aunt and the dog, a bit afraid and definitely not willing to turn my back on the dog, but also very proud to hold the leash. 

That one piece of advice my great-aunt gave me, to never show fear, it stayed with me. 

For the record, I don’t have a dog (I am happy to pet other people’s dogs, though).