Three Dogs, One Campsite, and a Cheese-Covered Napkin - Small Breed Rescue of East Tennessee

I recently returned from a camping trip with my three dogs, and as usual, I came home with a few stories to tell. But this time, I also came home with something unexpected: a little more understanding of one of my dogs.

Now, camping with three dogs isn’t always the peaceful, relaxing getaway you might imagine. At least not with my three!

First, there’s Huckleberry. He’s a sweet little guy, but he’s also a bundle of nervous energy. New people make him uncomfortable, and his preferred method of dealing with strangers is to bark at them while simultaneously trying to get away.

Then there’s Henry, my French Bulldog. Henry is essentially a bowling ball with four legs. He loves people and approaches life with an enthusiasm that sometimes exceeds his ability to apply the brakes.

And finally, there’s Bentley, my tiny Chihuahua, who generally takes life as it comes. This was Bentley’s very first camping trip, and I was curious to see how he would handle the experience.

Three dogs, three very different personalities, and one human trying to keep everybody happy.

What could possibly go wrong?

From the moment we settled into our campsite, Huckleberry appointed himself head of campground security. Every person who walked down the campground road apparently required an announcement.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

Now, I understand that Huckleberry is nervous around unfamiliar people. I’ve known that about him for a long time. But I also didn’t want to be that camper whose dog disturbed everyone else’s peaceful getaway.

So I found myself correcting him when he barked.

And correcting him again.

And again.

I wasn’t angry with him. I just wanted him to stop barking at every person who happened to walk past our campsite.

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether I was accomplishing anything.

Huckleberry wasn’t barking just to annoy me. He was uncomfortable, and barking was his way of dealing with it.

Was correcting him really helping him feel any better?

I wasn’t sure.

Then one afternoon, a woman came walking down the campground road.

As expected, Huckleberry sounded the alarm.

But this woman was different. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the barking. She simply walked over and put her hands on Huckleberry’s head.

Now, I certainly wouldn’t recommend approaching an unfamiliar, frightened, barking dog and putting your hands on his head. That’s not something I would encourage anyone to do.

But what happened next surprised me.

Huckleberry relaxed.

Just like that.

It was almost as though he thought, “Oh. Well, okay. I didn’t die. Maybe this isn’t so terrible after all.”

Meanwhile, Henry was being Henry, enthusiastically enjoying the attention.

And Bentley?

Well, Bentley had apparently been overlooked.

As the woman started walking away, my little Chihuahua followed after her, wagging his tail.

I could almost hear him saying, “Excuse me! Wait a minute! You forgot somebody!”

And bless her heart, she turned around and came back to give Bentley some attention, too.

But here’s the part that really stayed with me.

Huckleberry remained relaxed when she returned.

The same dog who had been barking at nearly everyone who walked past our campsite was now perfectly comfortable with this woman.

I stood there thinking, “Well, I’ll be darned.”

It wasn’t as though Huckleberry suddenly became a confident, outgoing dog. He was still my nervous little Huckleberry. In fact, he remained pretty much on high alert throughout the camping trip.

But that encounter made me wonder whether there were things I could do differently to help him become more comfortable around unfamiliar people.

Maybe I didn’t have everything figured out after all.

Then came another little revelation.

At some point during the trip, I had a napkin with cheese on it. Nothing particularly remarkable about that.

But when someone walked past our campsite, I let Huckleberry lick the cheese from the napkin.

And guess what?

He couldn’t have cared less about the person walking by!

Apparently, a little cheese was far more interesting than monitoring campground traffic.

There he was, completely absorbed in that napkin, while someone walked past without receiving the usual barking announcement.

And suddenly I found myself thinking, “Wait a minute. Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

I’d been trying to correct Huckleberry for barking.

But what if, instead of focusing on stopping the behavior, I gave him something else to focus on?

What if I could help him associate people walking past with something pleasant instead of something frightening?

Now, I’m not a professional dog trainer, and I certainly don’t claim to have all the answers.

But that silly little cheese-covered napkin made me rethink how I was responding to my dog.

Maybe redirecting his attention would be more helpful than correcting him for something he was doing because he felt nervous.

Of course, I don’t expect one cheese-covered napkin to solve all of Huckleberry’s problems. And next time, I’ll probably use an actual dog treat rather than a napkin!

But it gave me something to think about.

One of the things I love about living with dogs is how different they can be.

Here we were, all sharing the same campsite and experiencing the same surroundings, yet each of my dogs was having an entirely different adventure.

Huckleberry was busy keeping track of every unfamiliar person within barking distance.

Henry was delighted by the possibility that someone, somewhere, might want to pay attention to him.

And Bentley, on his very first camping trip, was apparently quite willing to introduce himself to anyone who might have overlooked him.

I sometimes wonder what goes through their little minds.

For Huckleberry, an unfamiliar person can be frightening.

For Henry, that same person is a potential new best friend.

And for Bentley, well, apparently it’s simply unacceptable to walk past a perfectly adorable Chihuahua without acknowledging his existence.

I can’t help but laugh at how differently they see the world.

But their differences also remind me that what works for one dog might not work for another.

I’ve shared my life with dogs for many years, and fostering rescue dogs has introduced me to even more personalities, quirks, fears, and behaviors.

You might think that by now I’d have most of this figured out.

I don’t.

I still find myself questioning whether I’m handling certain situations the right way.

With Huckleberry, I don’t want to shelter him so much that he never has an opportunity to become comfortable with new experiences. But I also don’t want to push him into situations that frighten him.

Where’s that balance?

I’m still working on it.

I do know that his barking isn’t simply an inconvenience to me. It’s telling me something about how he’s feeling.

And perhaps I need to spend a little less time trying to stop the noise and a little more time understanding what’s behind it.

That doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly stop caring whether my dogs disturb other campers. I absolutely want to be considerate of the people around us.

But maybe I can accomplish that while also helping Huckleberry feel more secure.

Maybe that means creating a little more distance between him and passing strangers. Maybe it means having treats handy before he becomes upset. Maybe it means recognizing when he’s had enough excitement for one day.

And maybe some days, despite my best efforts, he’ll still bark.

He’s Huckleberry, after all.

When I packed up the camper and headed home, I had three tired dogs and a few new things to think about.

Bentley had experienced his first camping trip and apparently discovered that strangers can be a wonderful source of attention.

Henry had enjoyed another opportunity to share his considerable enthusiasm with the world.

And Huckleberry?

Huckleberry was still Huckleberry.

He hadn’t undergone some miraculous transformation. He hadn’t stopped being nervous around unfamiliar people.

But he’d surprised me.

A stranger had approached him, and he’d relaxed. Later, a cheese-covered napkin had distracted him from something that normally made him anxious.

Two small moments in an otherwise ordinary camping trip.

But sometimes those little moments are the ones that teach us the most.