My wife and I will talk about the dog’s accomplishments for the day when the other spouse comes home. That discussion revolves around potty training, places we’ve been, and who we met along the way. Much like 25+ years ago, when my kids were in training.
When engaging our foster dog in training, we refer to each other as Mommy and Daddy; as in, “Let’s show Mommy what we learned today.” We then find ourselves changing our tone of voice to something high-pitched, giggly, and excitable, to match what we think are the dog’s sensibilities. Engaging and distracting our own youngsters was not much different, as I remember. However, over time our kids came to understand what we were saying; whereas to the dog, I’m sure our many words will always sound like “blah, blah, blah.”
Have dog, will travel. We revisit old stomping grounds, as if with grandkids (we have none), explaining to our dog what we used to do there years ago. Not just to re-live old memories, as here, canoeing Lake Wingra, but to see the world through fresh eyes—the dog’s eyes. In so doing, we become child-like, too.
That’s how come we found ourselves at Madison’s zoo this week—to introduce Candy to God’s larger extended family. There Candy caught first glimpses of God’s creatures large and small, scary and friendly, weird and foreign. The captive zoo animals ignored us humans (as we were so ubiquitous and commonplace), but not the black, furry four-legged animal staring back at them from our side of the enclosure.
She was a curiosity piece. A buffalo roamed across his pen to draw near to Candy, who instinctively backed up. Likewise the giraffe, upon sighting her, sauntered over and stuck his neck out, over the fence, to inspect our dog up close and personal.
Future wilderness camping trips may involve just the dog, who knows. Then you’ll know I’ve gone to the dogs.
Not all dogs need apply—just the mature, well-behaved ones. Truth be told, I lose patience quickly with “toddler” puppies, age 5 months or so, who are not yet way too jumpy, mouthy, messy, or demanding. One such pup lasted just three days in my care, then was taken back by my dog handlers and given to another foster parent with more self-control and dog sense.
Makes me wonder at times how my own kids survived their toddler years under my impatient parenting. Yet such experiences, examining the other end of the parenting leash, have taught me lessons in self-awareness, body language, and the ministry of presence. Next time you’re walking your dog, consider the person on the other end of the leash. Let me know what you find out