I was drifting back in time today. It seems to be quickening slightly
as I get slightly older.
Last year I was living in Calgary and a new responsibility was
introduced into the household: a dog. A small dog. His name was Jonas.
Thinking back now I recall that I actually could have decided that it
wouldn't happen. Knowing what I do now though, it would have been a
great mistake.
Jonas is one of the cutest creatures you'll ever meet (still in Calgary
now, with his rightful owner). But he was very young. I'd never really
been part of raising or training a dog, so it presented unique yet
certain predictable challenges.
There were the random barking episodes (at any time of day or night)
as he was getting accustomed to his new environment. There were plenty
of "accidents" to reinforce the need to clean the floors. There was
ample play time (oh, the squeaky toys!), which was frequently invading
"my" time. But what's a pup to do? He can't sleep all the time like a
cat. Dude's gotta DO stuff. Chew stuff. Destroy stuff. It's your
choice to ignore him, if you dare.
In the months that followed as he grew, I learned (re-learned,
remembered?) a few things about myself. I'd frequently be home during
days so I'd have to take him for walks. It was a great way to get off
my own ass to get some exercise, while letting him get used to the
idea of relieving himself outside the house. Both were good things no
matter how you look at it.
I recall on more than one occasion where he'd get the idea that he
could simply go explore wherever he wanted. He had energy that
embarrassed me. So child-like and curious about everything that I
couldn't help smile and recall some of my own younger days (though,
I'd stop and smell trees or flowers, not poop). I realized that these
little animals serve us in many ways which we may or may not
acknowledge.
There were days when frustration was prevalent in my mind. And
unfortunately, the dog sometimes was on the receiving end, but nothing
brutal of course. There'd be an extra snatch at the leash to get him
to cooperate or to stop running in this direction or that. But then
there'd be that instant guilt and realization: it's not him. It's
nothing he did, and he most certainly doesn't deserve to be an outlet
for my issues.
And in what other situation does this happen all too often? Moving on…
Even though I'd sometimes tug a little too hard, or cut an outdoor
excursion short (mostly because it was cold and my body isn't
completely covered in hair) he wouldn't complain. You'd still get that
kind of silly, goofy grin that only dogs can provide, with a wagging
tail – whether or not you said "I'm sorry". ANY attention and
potential new experience was something to get excited about. EVERY
time outside that door into the wilderness was completely new.
It's important to enjoy the process.
Sure, there were the marked territorial stops (with a fresh dose of
HIS scent to re-mark them) along well-trodden paths, but other than
that, there would be a new neighbourhood friend to sniff out, or a
different cow in the pasture (that scared the crap out of him, at
first). But this simple experience made it very easy to just let
things go for a while and watch this curious little freak do his
thing.
Now the cat, well she was a different story…
–
love your life!
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Tags: dogs, insights, life lessons