Tag: dogs

Navigating Unwelcome Surprises

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“Living is the art of getting used to what we didn’t expect.” – Eleanor C. Wood

Last week, at an off-leash area for dogs, a dog latched on to my 18-month-old dog, Cooper’s, face. This dog, a pit bull mix, had been showing a lot of interest in Cooper. But Cooper doesn’t have, or hasn’t yet developed, any defensive postures – he doesn’t bark, raise his hackles, or growl. He’s bigger than many of the dogs and mostly runs away.

For whatever reason, this dog latched on to Cooper’s face between his eye and his ear. The dogs weren’t fighting – and neither dog was even growling. The owner was right there and was doing all that he could to get the dog to let go.

I can’t say how long it went on for – it felt like five minutes but could have been only one or two. As it went on, all the humans in the dog park circled around but no one seemed to be able to help the owner get the dog to let go.

And then finally the dog released. Cooper wimpered and scampered away. The owner said to me, “I’m so sorry. We’re never coming here again.” I’d like to report what I said but I have no idea. Maybe nothing.

I checked Cooper as we walked out of the park and he didn’t have any blood or wounds. The side of his face appeared to be a little puffier but undamaged.

These kinds of things always surprise me when they happen. It’s not that I’m unaware that they can. It’s that I’ve found carrying around the armor of anticipation to be too exhausting. It fends off bad and good things equally. It weighs me down too much in a way that keeps me from trying new things.

Instead I’ve come to figure out what works for me to process these things. I sit on my meditation cushion and breathe and pray. I write about it. I tell the story to others and it helps me to get a handle on it myself.

Somewhere during this process after we’d gotten home from the dog park, I started to settle down. The shaky feeling had lessened and after a time, I even stopped saying “I’m sorry that happened” to Cooper every time I looked at him.

Then as the kids settled into bed that night, Cooper featured high in our list of what we were grateful for. Five-year-old Mr. D was glad his buddy was okay. Nine-year-old Miss O pointed out that it was great that the other owner was helping and was apologetic. I was grateful that the kids weren’t there and it wasn’t any worse.

So in the end, we found bright spots in a story that started with “a dog latched on to Cooper’s face.” I’ve found that navigating unwelcome surprises often helps me to dig deep.

(featured photo is Cooper after the incident)

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Dr. Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

You can find me on Instagram and Twitter @wynneleon

Photos of the Week: November 23

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“Everyone thinks they have the best dog. And none of them are wrong.” ― W.R. Purche

Leash up everyone — it’s a dog themed photos of the week.

Meditating with Cooper

Enjoying the dog park

Sports (Sorry, Cooper, you weren’t invited because you eat the football.)

“He who steals dish brush should use dish brush.” – If Confucius didn’t say that, he should have… Not sure what Confucius would say about sock-stealing dogs (2nd picture).

A Seattle Mural (for Rebecca). And a sign of the week to go with the theme of the week.

(featured photo credit to Miss O)

(quote from rover.com)

Loving and Learning

Posted in love, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , 64 Comments

“Life isn’t about getting and having, it’s about giving and being.” – Kevin Kruse

I was chatting with another parent at a party the other night. Let’s call her Casey, because, well, that’s her name. Casey was telling me about spending the night prior sleeping on the floor next to their new puppy’s crate. Since I was fresh off of sleeping on the couch for my puppy when he was getting adjusted, I was nodding along.

Then Casey said that a friend of hers told her she had made a mistake by getting a puppy. The opinion was logical: she laid out all the plans Casey had said she wanted to do like rebuilding her acupuncture practice in a new location and thought the puppy was not conducive to Casey’s goals.

Hmm, is love ever directly conducive to our goals?

Perhaps when it is the goal itself but from my experience, love is the big disruptor that often interrupts our progress on the things we can measure.

I’m thinking of this past weekend when my four-year-old son wanted to sit on my lap as I was writing a post so I switched to typing one-handed.

Or the time 20 years ago when I screwed up a work presentation because my new love wanted to spend time and so I forgot to practice.

And the swollen eyes I had for weeks after I had to say goodbye to my last dog, making it nearly impossible to concentrate or pull myself together.

And yet:

My four-year-old, Mr. D, has been bounding out of bed in the morning to say “hi” to the puppy. I find him with his arm around the dog or the cat as he tries to broker peace for his new best friend. And having a puppy has also made him more organized to keep track of his Bun Bun stuffy so that it stays out of the dog’s sharp teeth.

My eight-year-old daughter, Miss O, has a new way to make friends. We stood outside the school gate this afternoon letting kid after kid pet the puppy while she proudly showed them how she’s trained him to sit. And the puppy is also making her grow up because she’s having to find her inner discipline in order to deliver clear commands to him.

I feel the rumbling at my feet of puppy snores as I type this and feel less alone. I’m also feeling the exhaustion that comes with the extra discernment, communication, and enthusiasm I’m expending to train my kids to train the puppy.

We’re loving and learning. I’m not sure there is anything more conducive to my parenting goals than that. I’ve lost sleep for far less worthy reasons!

What do you think is worth losing sleep for?

When You Want to Give it Back

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“The strongest of all warriors are these two – Time and Patience.” – Leo Tolstoy

The other night as we were getting ready for bed, Miss O asked me, “Mama, with the dogs you’ve had, did you ever wish you didn’t have them?”

Oh, oh, oh, my heart. This was after a tough evening of puppy training with Cooper. He had been nipping at the edges of shorts, knees, and feet, the kids were running from him which he thought was a game. There wasn’t an ounce of calm to be found.

When everyone got settled down to watch a little bit of the Cars movie before bed, there were a few minutes when Miss O got to calmly pet Cooper when he was being good, but it wasn’t enough to heal the tiredness and irritation that come with getting chewed on and chased.

As we headed up the stairs to do the kids bedtime routines, I pondered Miss O’s question and the follow-on that led from it: Is there a gift in this world that doesn’t come with a downside or a moment when we wish we didn’t have the gifts we’ve been given?

I absolutely adore, treasure, and love my kids, but there are occasions when I’m flat out exhausted or sick, and don’t have the sense of humor to understand why they think sitting on my head is the right choice and funny. It’s fleeting, but I certainly long to only take care of myself in those moments. But thank goodness, I always bounce back after I get some sleep, or even just a moment to myself.

Any other gifts that we don’t momentarily doubt? Job? A new car? The place where we live? Our family?

All I could think to say to Miss O is that the work put in on the front end of relationships usually results in great dividends.

With a puppy, training pays off in spades when they are 7 times their original size.

With romantic relationships, authenticity and vulnerability allow true intimacy.

With friendships, when we keep looking for people with whom we can let down our hair.

With kids, when we create secure attachments.

It was just two weeks ago when I overheard Miss O’s mic drop moment in the car bringing the puppy home and explaining to him, “And you are something called my new best friend.” The problem with her new best friend is that he can’t automatically understand when she wants to play and when she wants to snuggle.

Funny how much I relate to wanting all my friendships to be effortless, only to discover that they grow when effort is applied. I suspect that for Miss O and Mr. D, learning that through raising a puppy might be one of the best gifts of all.

Gratitude Over Fear

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“Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made.” – Roger Caras

It’s our day to go pick up our new puppy. I’ve found myself feeling tight and nervous, unable to plan out all the things of how this will play out with a puppy and two kids in the mix. So, I’ve indulged my brain by writing out two lists: my fears and my gratitude.

Here are the things I’m afraid of:

I won’t have time to pay attention to my kids

The puppy will be a distraction from my work

That this will be my undoing when I finally find that I’ve pushed it too far and I end up exhausted

That we collectively won’t be good puppy trainers and dog owners

That the puppy will find a box of crayons and a box of Cheez-Its, eat both, and leave rainbow throw up all over the house.

That Mr. D will be displaced as the baby of the family and won’t get some focus, not yet identified, that he needs

That I’ll have to get better at asking for help.
Or that I’ll have to let something else that I personally love go in order to support this bigger collective

I fear Mr. D’s beloved stuffy, Bun Bun, will be torn to shreds.

I won’t be able to train the puppy to understand my morning sacred time

What I’m grateful for:

That we have so much love to give
That the default for my little family is to be willing to try

The excitement that comes with new family members
That my faith and my heart tell me we are ready for this, even when my head forgets.

For the ability of puppies and dogs to love, listen, and lean in.

That I’ve worked out many of my problems in life while walking my dogs.

For the melting way that puppies and dogs look at their owners to show loyalty and trust
That my kids will get to experience that from a young age

The way that dogs can lighten up almost any situation with a wag, a toot, or a yowl.
That my kids will get to experience what a loyal friend is as they maneuver through their own growing friendships.

That being a head of family has taught me that I don’t have to figure out all the details, just set people in the right direction

That tears, anger, and exhaustion lead to opportunities for repair.

That typing out this list has made me feel better.

As I put these down on paper, I find the gratitude is far more substantial on the scale of importance. Funny how big my fear feels until I actually write it down and find it’s really just uncertainty. But I have to give it its moment in the sun, as I did here, in order to fully let it go.

Post-script: I wrote this post before we went to pick up the puppy, Cooper. Then on the way home, Miss O had Cooper in a box on her lap. She was explaining the world to him – this is a car, that is a phone, and overhead we see an airplane. And then I heard her say, “And you are something called my best friend.” I’d already dispelled most of my fears by writing out my gratitude. Whatever remained was blown away by that.

For something almost as sweet and fun as that last comment, check out the latest Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast with the amazing writer and blogger, Cheryl Oreglia: Episode 30: True Grit with Cheryl Oreglio or search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon Music, PocketCasts or Spotify.

The Short Good-Bye

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“Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole.” – Roger Karas

At the end of April, a few days before we were leaving for vacation in Colorado, my friend Eric mentioned his dog, Argus, started limping. Since Eric was going on vacation with us he wanted to get his Argus into the vet before we left. His regular vet didn’t have any openings but fortunately he found one a little further away that could see him on a Sunday. I texted him after the appointment asking how it went and he didn’t respond. A delayed response is pretty normal for Eric but this felt ominous.

Five years ago, I was feeling pretty tender after losing my beloved dog Biscuit and as an antidote was browsing the local shelter’s website for available dogs. It was a Friday afternoon and all of a sudden a dog that was a yellow lab/golden retriever mix popped up – so new to the site he didn’t even have a picture.

As soon as Miss O woke from her nap, I scooped her up and we went to the shelter. The dog had just come in, they thought he was 2-3 years old. He’d been adopted out from a shelter and then returned two weeks later because he was too high energy. I knew that with a 1 ½ year-old child that I couldn’t adopt him but I filled out the paperwork to put him on hold in case Eric did. Many years prior when Eric and I dated (before we become just friends and it’s not just a phrase but it works for us), he had a yellow lab and I had a golden retriever. His lab had died at a ripe old age and he hadn’t yet gotten a new dog.

Eric came down and visited the dog the next day with us. When he jumped at the opportunity to adopt him, he was surprised to find that I’d already filled the paperwork out. It started the joke that I adopted the dog for him.

Argus was high energy and full of surprises but he fit with Eric. Argus would find a way to lie on the couch no matter how many stools or chairs Eric put up there to keep him off. So Eric came up with a plan to put a towel on Argus’ side of the couch where he could lie – but that just meant Argus laid on Eric’s side. Have you seen that Internet meme where there’s a couch with three dogs on it and a man sitting on the floor in front of it that says, “It took a lot of training but finally he learned”? That was a perfect description for Eric and Argus.

A few months ago Eric ordered take-out Indian food. He put the Naan bread on the table when he stepped into the kitchen for a moment to load his plate and came back. There was “non” bread anymore and Argus didn’t even look guilty.

Miss O thought she could practice training dogs by working with Argus. Which worked pretty well when Argus felt like complying. One day we right behind her as she walked Argus until he saw some dogs ahead and pulled off like a shot, Miss O hanging on to the leash as he pulled her along on her butt down the sidewalk for 50 feet.

Eric called me the day after his vet appointment. The vet found cancer all through the leg and it had already spread to the lungs. Treatment meant amputating the leg and a lot of chemotherapy and the vet was pretty clear it still wouldn’t likely work. Eric had to make the decision to put Argus down. He said it took 90 minutes from the beginning of the appointment to the end.

Hot tears spilled on my cheek as we talked about Argus and saying good-bye. It didn’t feel like he was old enough to have to go. Where were the golden years when he mellowed out? It’s taken me three weeks to write about this because my ache for my friend and this beautiful dog is too close to the heart.

But then yesterday I listened to a Ten Percent Happier podcast with New Yorker writer and author of Lost & Found Kathryn Schulz and it helped me find the words. She observes that it’s funny that we use the same word “lost” to describe the hat we misplaced and the people we love who have died. She added that we grieve in proportion to the way we love them which I take to mean that I wouldn’t have spent six paragraphs describing my hat like I just did with Argus. But she eloquently described the bafflement we feel when we’ve lost our keys and when we’ve lost someone to be very similar. Even though the time and way we’ll grieve will be different, the feeling of “What? I just had them in my hand!” is the same incomprehension.

I’ve been writing about the long good-bye for my daughter and her friend that is moving in three months and then this too short good-bye snuck up to show me the opposite end of the spectrum. It turns out that all good-byes feel hard. But I find solace in to knowing that good-bye started as a shortening of “God be with you,” I find comfort in wishing God be with you to Argus.

P.S. If the name Argus (or sometimes spelled Argos) sounds familiar, Eric named him Argus after Odysseus’ faithful dog. When Odysseus returned from his 20 years at war and wandering, Argus was the only one that recognized him. He lifted his head to see his master one last time and then died.

Pass the Sniff Test

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“When people show you who they are, believe them.” – Maya Angelou

I started this morning by apologizing at 5:15am. The cat was wending her way around my ankles as I fed her and I accidentally stepped on her little soft paw. It caused her to yowl and me to let loose with a stream of apologies.

It brought back a memory of a guy that I went on a handful of dates with after I got divorced. One time we went snowshoeing but had to drive farther than planned to find snow. When we returned a couple of hours later than expected, I knelt at the front door, ruffled my beloved dog’s fur and apologized to him.

The date, standing behind me said, “Never apologize to an animal.” I turned thinking he must be joking but he wasn’t that funny – and he wasn’t joking.

If we can’t apologize to our animals that depend on us for their well-being, never lecture in return and love us anyway, who can we apologize too?

So I didn’t go out with the guy again. No apology necessary. 😊

Anyone else have an example of a sniff test?

(featured image is mine)

Oh My Dog

Posted in ParenthoodTagged , , ,

“There’s no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.” – Bernard Williams

I was texting with my friend, Eric, the other night about a dinner party I had that was fun but difficult because I couldn’t listen very well. Listening well, serving food and minding two young kids is hard, or maybe nearly impossible. Eric’s reply was, “I can’t imagine trying to have a conversation with John while trying to make dinner, hold a baby and answer the many questions of a six-year-old. The only way to make it easier would be to get a puppy.”

Eric doesn’t think I should get a puppy and he frequently uses humor to tell me so. And I don’t disagree with a single reason he’s given me. Yep, it’s a lot of work. Definitely true that it’ll disrupt my sleep. And sure, I already have a lot on my hands given that I’m a single-mom of two kids trying to work, parent and live some semblance of an individual life. All true!

But here’s the thing. I don’t think life is supposed to be easy. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured this out about me since we’ve been friends through all my parenthood. I mean after I had the first kid it might not have been obvious how much work it took to sustain young life but when I chose to do it again, I think that might have been a clue that I’m willing to go all in the game for love.

I’m going to get a puppy because I love dogs. But I’m also going to get a puppy because I think for families that want them, they are an incredible companion. All your secrets are safe with a dog. Also, once you’ve established the bond, there is no end to the unconditional love of a dog. And finally, to be in charge of an animal, you have to first learn to be in charge of yourself. In the years of growing up that we have to come, I think a pet will be a great source of comfort and joy. Because yes, I just want to be the person that my dog thinks I am and I want my kids to be that person as well.

What’s so funny about this is that Eric was texting me about the party because he couldn’t come because he was home with HIS DOG! A little surgery and the meds had thrown his dog’s system off and Eric didn’t think the dog could come or be left alone. Ha!

But I’m going to wait about six months until my toddler is potty-trained because dealing with poop from more than one household member at a time seems crazy. I’m committed but not insane!

Irrigating the Irritation

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“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” – Plato

Yesterday my friend John was trying to get a hold of my friend Eric and I was caught in the middle. Eric wasn’t answering so John called me and left a voice mail. Eric’s phone had died and he was temporarily using another number so I texted him on his other phone that John was looking for him. Eric didn’t have John’s number stored in his temporary phone so Eric called me for it. I texted it to Eric and then John called me.

It seemed to go on and on. They called and texted me while I was working, picking up my son from school, out for ice cream, getting the kids ready for the bed. I was irritated. Then I found out John was calling because our friend Joanie was having to put her beloved 15-year-old golden retriever to sleep. My irritation evaporated instantly.

Compassion is such a powerful tool. For years I’ve said that doing meditation in the morning was irrigating my irritations. I hadn’t identified specifically that it was expanding my compassion for my self and others until I was reminded of this “Just Like Me” meditation from by Buddhist monk, Pema Chödrön:

”There’s a practice I like called ‘Just like me.’ You go to a public place and sit there and look around. Traffic jams are very good for this. You zero in on one person and say to yourself things such as Just like me, this person doesn’t want to feel uncomfortable. Just like me, this person loses it sometimes. Just like me, this person doesn’t want to be disliked. Just like me, this person wants to have friends and intimacy.’

“We can’t presume to know exactly what someone else is feeling and thinking, but still we do know a lot about each other. We know that people want to be cared about and don’t want to be hated. We know that most of us are hard on ourselves, that we often get emotionally triggered, but that we want to be of help in some way. We know that, at the most basic level, every living being desires happiness and doesn’t want to suffer.”

Welcoming the Unwelcome by Pema Chödrön

When we do suffer, it is eased by the compassion of others. I remember talking with Joanie after my golden retriever died and because she knew the depth of the heartache, it was of great comfort to me. I am sending that compassion back to her now so the spirit of love, warmth and understanding continues to ripple out. My daughter wants to make a card for Joanie. She suggested a message of “You are the best even though you only have two dogs and one died.” I love the idea but we might fiddle with the wording…