What does a foot brace and dogs have in common? The answer: They both teach you to slow the heck down!
I will not comment any further on my foot injury because it is getting tiresome, but I will tell you what I keep experiencing and learning over and over again. After I came back from Mexico and my dad’s 80th birthday (lovely celebration in spite of a nasty cold… achoo!) I went to pick up Louie once again at the shelter where he had to stay while I was away. When I came to pick him up, while happy to see me, his ticket to freedom- he was not so “needy.” Instead, he had grown more confident. By this I mean that he did not need my constant reassurance and physical interaction as he had in the past. Now, as shelter staffer Suzanne held is leash, he was clearly happy to leave the confinement of the shelter and began to engage with his environment as if taking the whole thing in in one-big swoop.
We proceed to put Louie in the car. He has done this same maneuver almost a dozen times. We take it slow. While I hold him on the leash with the door open wide, Suzanne calls Louie from the other side of the car as a chicken rests on the back seat and the floor. Come on Louie, let’s go, I tell him and he looks at me as if incredulous that he gets to leave the shelter or that we are trying this thing one more time.
I suddenly see myself taking a deep breath aware that I am getting a bit frustrated and remind myself that I will still feel kind of bad from this persistent cold a few minutes later, that perhaps the best policy is to just slow the heck down. I allow Louie to take his time -- however long his time might be. Who knows, perhaps this dog is psychic…just as I am done thinking this, he makes his big move by placing his big front paw inside the car. Ahhh, here we go, and the rest of the body follows.
Now with Louie laying comfortably in the back seat I can’t help but feeling “proud” of myself for honoring his wishes, for not pushing my agenda and taking in this valuable lesson: slooow the heck down!
We say our goodbyes to shelter staff and off we go. As I am driving home I think about life, dogs and transitions. Transitions can be difficult for dogs, especially when it involves new experiences, novel experiences one after the other or if the dog is on the “shy” side. Transitions are a big part of life, perhaps life is indeed infinite, yet long (super long if you are lucky :)) string of discreet transitions: one after the other. The choice is still ours: How will we allow ourselves and those that depend upon us for their well being to make those transitions? Are we going to just get the job done or instead allow for a gentle systematic and conscious approach so that the change adds to their quality of life?
I am super happy that today I chose for slow and respectful. I realized Louie needed more time – which as I said and is often the case, it was just a little more time to be able to shift gears. We are home and I get out of the car kind of victorious, nice goin’ and I make another smart choice and I walk slowly. Mindfully. Allowing myself the transition of steps – funky steps that one makes when walking with a leg brace. Inside Laika and Deuce are waiting. They spot Louie through the front window: mouths open, tails wagging two seconds later I am surrounded by these three good friends and we transition into play.
I will not comment any further on my foot injury because it is getting tiresome, but I will tell you what I keep experiencing and learning over and over again. After I came back from Mexico and my dad’s 80th birthday (lovely celebration in spite of a nasty cold… achoo!) I went to pick up Louie once again at the shelter where he had to stay while I was away. When I came to pick him up, while happy to see me, his ticket to freedom- he was not so “needy.” Instead, he had grown more confident. By this I mean that he did not need my constant reassurance and physical interaction as he had in the past. Now, as shelter staffer Suzanne held is leash, he was clearly happy to leave the confinement of the shelter and began to engage with his environment as if taking the whole thing in in one-big swoop.
We proceed to put Louie in the car. He has done this same maneuver almost a dozen times. We take it slow. While I hold him on the leash with the door open wide, Suzanne calls Louie from the other side of the car as a chicken rests on the back seat and the floor. Come on Louie, let’s go, I tell him and he looks at me as if incredulous that he gets to leave the shelter or that we are trying this thing one more time.
I suddenly see myself taking a deep breath aware that I am getting a bit frustrated and remind myself that I will still feel kind of bad from this persistent cold a few minutes later, that perhaps the best policy is to just slow the heck down. I allow Louie to take his time -- however long his time might be. Who knows, perhaps this dog is psychic…just as I am done thinking this, he makes his big move by placing his big front paw inside the car. Ahhh, here we go, and the rest of the body follows.
Now with Louie laying comfortably in the back seat I can’t help but feeling “proud” of myself for honoring his wishes, for not pushing my agenda and taking in this valuable lesson: slooow the heck down!
We say our goodbyes to shelter staff and off we go. As I am driving home I think about life, dogs and transitions. Transitions can be difficult for dogs, especially when it involves new experiences, novel experiences one after the other or if the dog is on the “shy” side. Transitions are a big part of life, perhaps life is indeed infinite, yet long (super long if you are lucky :)) string of discreet transitions: one after the other. The choice is still ours: How will we allow ourselves and those that depend upon us for their well being to make those transitions? Are we going to just get the job done or instead allow for a gentle systematic and conscious approach so that the change adds to their quality of life?
I am super happy that today I chose for slow and respectful. I realized Louie needed more time – which as I said and is often the case, it was just a little more time to be able to shift gears. We are home and I get out of the car kind of victorious, nice goin’ and I make another smart choice and I walk slowly. Mindfully. Allowing myself the transition of steps – funky steps that one makes when walking with a leg brace. Inside Laika and Deuce are waiting. They spot Louie through the front window: mouths open, tails wagging two seconds later I am surrounded by these three good friends and we transition into play.
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