how you treat others

The pup needed some major tiring-out so I took him hiking on Sunday. The woods were silent. I figured the trail was empty and let him off-leash for a bit. He raced along happily, a ways out in front of me.

All of a sudden, I saw him come to a sudden stop. His ears perked up. He cocked his head slightly. His tail went up. His stance was alert and ready.

Then, I heard him snort. I don't know how to describe the noise exactly, but it sounds rather like a horse - that whooshing sound that comes through their nose and lips. He makes it when he's nervous. I saw two people coming around the bend and I knew that, for some reason, he was nervous of them.

I called him. He didn't come. He snorted again, turned slightly towards me, and then turned back. I whistled. He didn't come. I called, "Atlas, I'm leaving you." He didn't come. (I know, I know .. don't let dogs off leash unless they have a rock solid recall. Not the point of the story.) Finally, I gave up and continued towards him.

I got there at the same time the people did. I told them that yes, he was nervous (they suspected so) and that it was probably because of their hats (a bandana and a beret). I talked softly and sweetly to Atlas, reassured him that it was ok to be nervous but that they were friendly, and praised him for being a brave dog. I stayed there with him while he sniffed their hands and they reassured him that they were friendly. Then I continued on - with a happy puppy once again.

It occurred to me as I hiked along that it would be fantastic if I could always remember to treat myself like I treat Atlas.

Sure, I could have gotten mad at him, but it would have done little good and more bad. (I have a tendency to berate myself for fears, especially ones that seem slightly far-fetched. Does it help? No. It just makes me feel worse.)

Sure, I could have tried to force their friendliness upon him, but my telling him is never enough; he has to learn things for himself and in his own time. (I am not always good at meeting myself where I am - at accepting that I'm afraid and acknowledging that maybe I need to stay there for a while if I'm not ready to move through it. I feel like I should just push, push, push through the fears. Does it work? Not so much.)

I love my puppy with a depth that continually amazes me. I love him when he's sad, when he whines, when he barks in my ear, when his tummy is funny and I come home to an accident on my carpet, when he lunges at another dog, when he nips me, when he doesn't listen .. I love him no matter what. I always tell him that if anyone (including me) ever tells him that he is a bad dog, he can just ignore them because it's not true. His behavior might not be desired, but he himself is not bad. (While I am so much better at this now, I could always use more remembering.)

So .. I guess the goal here is to pretend that I am my own dog. At the very least, that ought to make me laugh - and it's hard to berate yourself while laughing.

Comments

[Julie M.]

Aww... I love it, Elizabeth. I think it's true sometimes with spouses and children too- it's terrible but we can be kinder to aquaintences and friends (even the furry kind) than the ones that are dearest to us.

[elizabeth @ the blue lotus]

@julie: ain't that the truth.