The Stairwell

Walking down the very narrow stairwell in our building has been a nerve-wracking experience since we got Sadie. I’d gotten into the habit of opening my door a crack to listen for neighbors in the hall and then try to rush Porter and Sadie down the stairs quickly enough to ensure not running into anybody. If we did, Sadie turned into a scary monster with fangs and all. We’d have to back up past the person’s doorway in order to negotiate the situation. Nobody would pass Sadie. Even if they did, we wouldn’t take the chance of her snarling and lunging at them.

Sadie barked at the mere sound of someone else’s footsteps. My neighbors were frightened and avoidance was key. There were a few people, my next-door neighbors among them, whom Sadie was especially intolerant of. We were very happy when these people moved out, because even after Sadie recovered enough to stop barking at the neighbors, her reputation would forever be tainted. New people just feel sorry for Sadie because, instead of barking at them, she now cowers behind my legs in their presence.

My anxiety over the stairwell only increased with Brenda. While Sadie had a nasty bark, I was never really worried she’d do damage. I’m sure Brenda would bite whoever got that close to her, though. Because Brenda is considerably smaller than Sadie, I just pick her up when I hear someone else in the stairwell and shuffle past them with her in my arms. Brenda doesn’t snarl and lunge when in this position—she only lets out a low growl. By now, most of my neighbors think she’s a cripple or is always sick.

I much prefer them pity her than fear her.

When I’m not carrying Brenda, she walks down the stairwell like it’s the inside of a pinball machine. She barrels down the steps so quickly that when she gets to each landing, she runs smack into the first door she comes to, ricochets off it and either just keeps going or flops down on the welcome mat.

If she keeps going I just try to stay with her and not drop the leash.

If she flops down, I grab her collar and hoist her to her feet. This usually gets her going again but occasionally I have to carry her over to the next step like I’m a forklift and she’s my building material. If she still doesn’t walk when I set her down I have to continue holding onto her collar (or jacket in colder weather) as she stumbles downward. At this point, she pushes her chest out with such force that I feel like she’d tumble to her death if I let go.