I told Robbie last night that if my dad had beat me as a kid, I’d be a lot more like him, a lot tougher on the outside, full of rage instead of just fear. He hit my sister a lot, as she was the bad kid, me the good kid. But he only cuffed me a couple of times. I don’t think of myself as an angry person but as a kid, I often wished I was tough enough to get into fights with other kids. But I couldn’t. I knew I would just cry and end up looking like a wimp.
I don’t remember feeling violent towards my own kids when they were growing up. I spanked them very rarely but I do remember using a harsh voice a lot. And I have gotten violent with pets on occasion, including recently. Last year, our dog Cassidy, a little Bishon, snapped at me and I clobbered him. He fell off the couch trying to get away from me and hit his leg on the edge of the coffee table, injuring it. My daughter was screaming in tears. We had to take him to the vet and I had to tell the vet what happen. I really felt ashamed. About six months later, he was sleeping on the couch with me while I was napping. Someone came to the door and he began barking, startling me. I threw him off me in anger and my son admonished me “Dad, he’s only doing what a dog naturally does, protecting us.” I again felt shame. And then this fall, he walked right in front of me and my daughter on our porch and peed on the leg of the table and I got up and slapped him several times, and this time my daughter admonished me in tears, saying “Dad, remember the vet said we’re not supposed to hit him, just grab his snout firmly and say the word ‘no’ in a stern voice.”
I guess I have some shit to work on.