Cowering in the face of danger

Hank the yellow Labrador met with a death-defying challenge last weekend.

My two sons, our two dogs (Hank and his sister Lucy) and myself were hiking in the Jewel Basin, heading up the ridge toward Mount Aeneas, when we encountered a truly frightening sight - a mother mountain goat and her kid, 100 yards away, slowly picking their way toward us.

The goats didn't seem to have any fear of us or the other party waiting on the ridge, as they were taking their sweet time wandering down the trail before they finally veered off onto the rocky side of the hill.

Meanwhile, we were worried Hank would bolt when he caught sight of these horrific creatures, considering he's at threat level midnight whenever our three domestic goats are let out of their pen to graze. He is terrified of them.

But then again, there is little that doesn't terrify Hank.

This dog, who is large and stocky enough to be menacing if he tried, comes from a distinguished lineage of Labs. We were told he has a Canadian ancestor, not too many generations removed, who was on the cover of National Geographic for his rescue heroics. This all could be urban legend, but it makes a great contrast to Hank's character, who obviously did not inherit any genes for courage.

This dog has not lived a life of abuse and neglect. The dogs in the household have been well-trained and well-fed and are given more attention and exercise than probably a good percentage of the human children on the planet.

Hank's first displayed phobia was of the vacuum cleaner. It's got a menacing shape and it's a strange loud unrelenting noise inside the house, so his initial fear was understandable.

His sister has realized that the vacuum is not out to get her, though, but before I even turn the machine on Hank still runs up to his "safe" spot on the landing upstairs.

He cowers there often.

The early July thunderstorms this summer sent him scurrying up the stairs in a hurry. I went up there to comfort him, but he wouldn't pull his head off the floor or even wag his tail.

We had a small campfire going in the yard earlier this summer and while Lucy eventually sat next to it, appreciating the time with the family, Hank would not be pushed, pulled or dragged anywhere near it. He wanted to be in the house, and when there he found himself a spot as far away from the door to the outside as he could get.

He also fears losing sight of his sister. If she's trailing behind on a walk, he'll look anxiously back, constantly monitoring her whereabouts. If you try to lead him too far ahead of her, he'll dig in and refuse to walk another step until she moves his way.

We are evil people and tend to exploit his fears occasionally, throwing his favorite fetching football toward the goats if they're out so we can laugh as he makes a wide circle around them on his way to the ball.

He has displayed bravery on occasion.

He will chase relentlessly after the red dot from a laser pointer, not unlike Wall.E frantically pursuing the red lights from the spaceship that lands on Earth. (I suspect that scene was dog-inspired.)

Though I tried to stop him, he recently took off recklessly after a mother grouse that was faking injury to distract the dogs from her babies. He didn't catch her, but I'm not sure he would have the instincts to have hurt her. A little close-up wing-flapping, and he'd probably have run the other way.

He will bark fiercely across the pasture at the neighbors as they walk their dogs - 1/4 mile away.

He might even summon his inner watchdog if one of the family or our property was threatened by someone else.

Unless, of course, they were in the company of a goat. Then they'd be free to rob us blind.

Reporter Heidi Gaiser may be reached at 758-4431 or by e-mail at hgaiser@dailyinterlake.com