Bite Threshold

Pam Skehan

I. Murphy or Monster?

I adopted Murphy, an eight-month-old chocolate Lab mix with bright green eyes and brindle feet, from Jefferson Parish Animal Shelter in the summer of 2012. “Owner surrender” was the only thing written on his chart. The shelter was full, so Murphy was discounted to the price of a cat: twelve dollars. He made no sound and had to be carried up stairs. This shyness faded, and, within weeks, he was jumping over couches and howling at full volume. He explored his new world by chewing everything in sight and did about a thousand dollars worth of damage in his first month with us, quickly exceeding the twelve-dollar tab we had bargained for.

On walks, he picked fights with neighborhood stray cats, squirrels, swans, mail carriers, and other dogs. We got weekly reports from doggy daycare that he wasn’t playing well with others. What had become of this innocent animal I had claimed as my own? Did I have a…bad dog? My beautiful, gentle creature had turned into a monster!

We enrolled in every training class available. I read Cesar Millan, watched Pitbullsand Parolees , and bought every product on the market to entertain, soothe, and redirect Murphy, most of which he destroyed. We even consulted a canine psychologist. I learned that every dog has a bite threshold. Dogs experience something called trigger stacking. Here’s how it works: A dog is on a walk and smells a cat hiding under a car. Then it hears a dog bark from behind a fence. Finally, it turns a corner, and BAM, the mailman. One of these events alone may be tolerable, but encountering all three can push dogs over the edge.

There are no bad dogs, nor are there bad breeds; there are just different thresholds and triggers. Murphy reacts with violence when he is afraid. As we offered unconditional love and reassurance to Murphy, over time, he gained trust in his environment, and his responses softened.

II. Hostile Haymakers

As I grew to understand my dog and his worldview, I saw some parallels to human psychology. Leading up to the 2016 election, the political rift grew unlike anything I had ever seen before. Growing up with people on both sides of the aisle, there were always playful jabs, but the discourse was mostly civil. Somewhere along the line, playful jabs became hostile haymakers. People became more deeply entrenched in their worldviews, and extremist groups gained traction. A high-school classmate, once a dreadlocked vegan skateboarder, started a neo-nazi website that became the most visited hate site in the world.

The pandemic and the protests of 2020 deepened the chasm. New labels entered the lexicon, such as anti-maskers, anti-vaxxers, social justice warriors, woke police, fake news, and cancel culture. A battle formed over Black and blue lives. Issues began to feel increasingly black or white, life or death. The anger I saw stemmed from fear: fear of losing lives, liberty, power, privilege. Any of these threats alone are disturbing, but, stacked up over time, they drive people past their thresholds.

III. Dumpster Gator

In 2021, Hurricane Ida hit Louisiana—another trigger to add to the stack. Citizens were displaced for weeks or longer, returning home to ripped-off roofs and debris-lined streets. In the wreckage, a bizarrely unifying symbol emerged. An alligator somehow landed in a hot pink dumpster covered with a bright blue tarp adorned with a vibrant red hibiscus flower. The image resonated with citizens and became affectionately known as Dumpster Gator. The mysterious tableau quickly filled headlines and social media feeds. Dumpster Gator became an icon of order in chaos, resilience in the face of adversity, a makeshift unifying memorial, and a moment of beautiful absurdity in an ugly chapter, and the image nestled into my subconscious.

IV. A Morbid Bouquet

After returning to New Orleans after Hurricane Ida, Murphy killed a possum in the backyard. He left it sprawled out on the grass, a proud display of his efforts to protect our home. The sight was horrifying, but mesmerizing. It flashed a wide, toothy grin, long rows of jagged teeth, and yellow claws furled at its sides. I monitored its claws for any twitches of life, hoping it was playing possum. A morbid bouquet formed in my mind, and I decided to memorialize the battle between Murphy and this possum in my piece, BiteThreshold . Gaping jaws lined with brindle fur were intertwined with lush tropical foliage, bright hibiscus, and prismatic birds of paradise. Suspended in a lavender plane, this scene exists only in a dream world or on a macabre wallpaper. I becan duplicating the image and tessellating the snouts and claws. I played with this imagery using other imagined backyard brawls.

In BiteThresholdII , two Doberman snouts appear in a Rorschach formation, mirroring out from the center, surrounded with acorns, squirrel feet and tails, blue thistles, and white anemones. Iridescent glitter beams from the dog's teeth and strings of saliva. Dobermans were bred to be working guard dogs, known for their attack and defense. They are often stereotyped as an aggressive breed though they are loyal and affectionate. Squirrels are one of the more celebrated backyard critters, and it if weren't for their fluffy tails, their reputation might be closer to that of a rat.

In Pitbulls&Peonies , a black glitter Rorschach blot splashes across the canvas. A pitbull's gaping grin weaves through the center, and a raccoon peers from behind it. The pitbull is an endearing breed that suffers a bad rap due to the strenght of its jowls. Shelters are dominated by these gentle giants, some euthanized on intake. They are often banned in housing contracts. Pitbulls have a dark history of bloodsports before they were spared by animal cruelty legislation, but their legacy as fighting dogs follows them. Raccoons, affiliated with garbage and disease, are resourceful scavengers with a violent fear response. The animals are encircled with symbols of purity and innocence: delicate blush flowers, eucalyptus, and baby's breath.

V. Raccoons, Possums, and People

Just like Murphy, humans are capable of immense damage. We all have triggers and thresholds. Sometimes there are catastrophic consequences to crossing those thresholds. My time with Murphy has taught me that dogs are inherenty good, gentle, loyal, emotionally complex creatures. Can the same be said for raccoons, possums, or even people? Humanity's capacity for evil is a tough pill to swallow, but I remain optimistc that more unites us than divides us. In Murphy's case, I have found love to be a more powerful force than fear.