For a very long time I have wanted a dog that stood guard at
the end of the driveway and never wandered, a dog that would follow me
anywhere, stop when I stopped, stayed put when I said stay, a loyal companion
whose every move was predicated on mine. I’ve seen dogs like these and wondered
how they became that way.
Many years ago I owned a Brittany Spaniel. As loving as he was, he was totally
undisciplined. He was yelpy and hyper active, loved us and annoyed us, and was
thoroughly absorbed by his Spaniel spirit. His name was Lucky. He was named so
as the sole survivor of 8 siblings. He proved his moniker after surviving wolfing down an
entire 3-inch round fudge-stuffed chocolate Easter egg the day we brought him home.
He once followed a scent (or was kidnapped by some misguided fool who thought
he’d found the perfect hunting dog) and was gone for months, only to return with his legs
full of fox tails. He was not so lucky the day the garbage truck ran over him
right before my eyes as he was running in front of it on the street outside my house.
Lady was my next dog, a stray that showed up on a friend’s
door step with a belly full of pups. Sweet dog that she was she birthed all
those pups and happily took the submissive role in a household full of animals
until she was passed over to me. Unfortunately, though she was loving and mothered
every kitten I brought into the household and a passel of daycare children I
cared for, she too had wanderlust and often climbed or broke through the fence
to pursue her dreams. Though I finally mastered walking her on a pinch collar
during the last year of her life (she was an extremely strong pit bull mix),
she would have been off and gone in a heartbeat if left to her own devices. And while
she faithfully followed me throughout the house, was tuned to my every mood,
and I loved her dearly, the dog of my dreams still eluded me.
Shortly after my beloved Lady passed away, I sought to
soothe my aching heart by adopting Maura, a beautiful Shepherd/Chow mix whose “rap
sheet” promised she loved to lay by the fire and was great with children. As
sweet-tempered, smart, and loyal as this dog was, she too had a habit of running off when the mood struck her. Granted, I didn’t try very hard to break her of this. I just
hoped it would happen.
My heart was irreparably broken when I lost Maura fifteen
years later. She had been my loyal companion for all those years. The queen of
dogs. Irreplaceable. And then, in a moment of profound empathy for a sad faced
border collie/hound mix I was thinking of fostering but couldn’t bear to leave
in the pound for another moment, I adopted my darling LG. She had everything I
was looking for in a dog. Smarts, loyalty, a submissive nature, a desire to
please, and a natural tendency to stay close (the herding dog instinct).
In LG I believed I had finally found my dream dog. Fiercely
loyal and obviously bonded to me (based on her tendency to follow me from room
to room and whine frantically when I left the house) I knew I had come as close
as I could to the perfect dog. Yet still, if on a scent, she seemed to lose her
hearing and would not come when I called her.
Then this evening, as I let her walk off the leash in front
of me, then stopped to see what she would do, she too stopped, waited, and then
returned to me. And that is when it hit me.
God gave me the raw materials. It’s up to me what I do with them. In LG, I have everything I could possible hope for in terms of the
opportunity to create my dream dog. But it’s not going to happen on its own.
Yes, I took her to basic obedience training. And yes, I drill her now and then.
But if I want her to be what I want her to be, if I want what I want, I will
have to make it so. I will have to work with the material I’m given, the best
chance I could have to have my dream dog, and turn her into one. It’s not going
to happen on its own, or with minimal effort
This is my metaphor for life. God gives you the raw
materials, whether that’s your intellect, your talent, your physical abilities,
or simply your drive. You have to make it happen.
Do it.
