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Issue 9.12
stylus n. an instrument of metal, bone, or the like,
IT'S NOT ABOUT THE DOG by Nina Durfee It was time for Sophie to go. Our Labrador/Australian shepherd mix was aged and in pain, wandering in and out of mental presence when we took her to the vet for her final transition. Two years have passed, and I miss her honesty, her sense of freedom, the way she never held a grudge, her eternal capacity for unconditional love. Just as we're thinking we're ready for another dog, my cousin announces she is moving and must part with her year-old Labrador/Australian shepherd mix (what are the odds!?). Tova, she tells us, has had all her shots and is potty trained. We have a fenced yard, plenty of space in our new home, and a cozy fireplace for Tova to bask in front of. What could be more perfect? Tova came to visit. She is friendly and beautiful – and has no apparent inclination to bask. She'll grow out of this boisterous stage eventually, I'm promised. Uh huh. I went to sleep with thoughts of curling up with her, taking her for walks, going on doggie play dates, Frisbee in the park, romping at the coast. I woke with thoughts of dragging myself from under the quilt to take let her out in twelve degree weather. I imagined leaving her alone all day while I go to work. I imagined declining spontaneous opportunities to take off for a weekend because I couldn't take Tova with me. Occasionally skipping my daily walk, whether in my own best interests or not, would no longer be an option. I sat cross-legged in front of the fire with a bowl of yogurt and a book and knew that if Tova were in my life I would not have this luxury. Every future decision would be complicated by the dog factor. I would feel guilty leaving her alone. I would resent tending to muddy pawprints, scratches on the wood floor, and dog hair on the furniture. I would resent the infringement on my freedom. There was a time when I was ready to devote to all that. That was then; this is now. I admit I'm selfish about my privacy, my freedom, my space, my comfort, and my schedule. There was a time I'd have been embarrassed to claim such selfishness, but now I say it with ownership. What better priority should dictate my experience than my own well-being and comfort? The Learning Why, then, have I wanted another dog for so long? What did I hope to gain? The answer is up there in the first paragraph: the eternal capacity for unconditional love. The flaw in my process was seeking it outside of myself. The truth is we reap what we sow. If my own channel for giving or receiving love is blocked, it's because judgment of myself or others is in my way. Appreciating the honest, accepting nature of dogs helps me to know what I want for myself. Once I know what I want, getting past my self-imposed barriers is up to me. Maybe in the future we will welcome a new dog and all that comes with it. For now I am content to love my neighbor's dog, to pat the head of dogs I encounter on my walks, to read The Art of Racing in the Rain and watch Marley and Me. And to quench my thirst for unconditional love, I will consciously practice letting go of judgment. What do you seek? Are your looking in the right place to find it? Do you rely on something outside of you to make you happy? Do you put you into the equation? What will you do for you in 2010? Coaching can help you make decisions and take actions that enhance your satisfaction in relationships, career, health and spirituality.
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