Wanna Be Like My Dog

In March 1988 I got my first dog training customer. At the time, I was working as  Veterinary Technician for Dr. Fawcett at Conewago Veterinary Clinic and figured the dog training would be additional income. If someone had told me that very first client was the start of a business that would rapidly become full time and still be going strong thirty-one years later I probably would have laughed at them.

But, here I sit on August 8, 2019, one of the blessed people to have successfully turned a hobby and a passion into a business. Since that first dog, a Weimeraner, I have trained at least 15,000 dogs. Folks, that’s a lot of sloppy kisses and doggie cuddles, and more than a few growls and snaps. To be honest, I’d say that in some ways I have been as much a student as the dogs and owners with whom I’ve worked.

Recently, I watched my sweet Golden Retriever, Gracie, do something that touched my heart. Gracie is four years old and still a puppy at heart. She is, of course, a retriever and retrievers are not particular about what items they retrieve. Our first Labrador, Daniel, once brought Don a brick and dropped it on his foot—but that’s another story.  Gracie pulled the fold-down tab from the cardboard of a twelve-pack of sodas. Instead of running with it because she knew she wasn’t supposed to have it, she brought it to me.

Now, if you have dogs, then you know what I mean when I say I knew what she was asking just by her actions. If you do not have a dog… you need one! Gracie approached me with the cardboard in her mouth, her tail wagged lazily, her head was slightly lowered and her eyes smiling. Yes, her eyes smiled. She delivered the cardboard to me, set it at my feet, sat herself beside me and waited. In dog body language she was asking, “Mom, I got this thing. Is it okay? Can I have it?”

Of course the answer was no. But she had done exactly what she was supposed to do. Gracie brought Mom the item, showed it to me, and asked if she could have it. I’m pretty sure she knew the answer. I’m pretty sure she knew she could have carried it the other way and chewed it to oblivion before I even knew she had it. But she brought it to me.

So, why did she do that? Because Gracie is a good dog. She’s loyal, she trusts me, and she respects my authority. Instead of fussing at her for getting into the cardboard I picked it up, thanked her for bringing it to me, and gave her a big hug. In the end, we went into the living room, got one of the dog bones and I held it while she chewed. She was a happy girl.

 I think when I grow up I want to be like my dogs. You see, my nature—and  I venture to say it is probably all of our nature—when I do something wrong is cover it, or rationalize it, or even run away from it. I know I would rather not have to face the consequence of my mess. Yet, what if I emulate my dog when I mess up? I run to God and say, “I got this thing, or I did this thing. I apologize.  Is it okay?”

The answer would most likely still be no. There would still be a consequence. But, there would be no shame and guilt. And, I know from past experience the hug God gives my heart is much better than whatever I thought I wanted.

Yep, I want to be like my Gracie when I grow up.