I arrived home from work on a recent weekday, having just picked up our dog, Boomer, from doggy daycare. The normal household tranquility is immediately disrupted by a chaotic canine, charging around the house with the exuberance of a five-year-old child coming back from a sugar-filled birthday party. In dog training terminology, Boomer has the “zoomies,” which means he is racing around the house, jumping on people and furniture, panting with excitement, and hysterical with the unfettered joy of being home.
Boomer’s happiness at coming home is diametrically opposed to my feelings. I am frustrated and irritated at his energy. All I want is a quiet entry into our home followed by a calm and peaceful dog walk and a pleasant dinner. My husband is oblivious to my tension and exasperation; he is enjoying a snack and a cold drink, watching something unremarkable on television. This is the best time of Boomer’s day, as well as my husband’s.
I allow my resentment to overflow, and I bark at Boomer and snap at my husband that this is the worst point in my day. They both look confused: my husband because he is bewildered by my words, and Boomer because he is baffled by the world in general. I question everything about this moment: Why isn’t my dog more obedient? What is wrong with him? How is it possible that he is so crazy when I have trained him diligently for well over a year? I even wonder, briefly, why I ever adopted this dog.
And then I have an epiphany, and it is not really about the dog: I am asking the wrong questions. I am viewing the situation from the standpoint of failure and victimization instead of from a perspective of curiosity and compassion. My current canine challenges have nothing to do with my shortcomings as a dog owner and everything to do with the opportunity for change.
I look at my disarming pooch through a new lens, a dog abandoned to wander the streets for an indeterminate period and then picked up and dumped at a well-intentioned animal rescue with limited resources. He lived in cages, crates, and outdoor chain-link dog runs for months, and although he was treated kindly, the circumstances did not foster trust nor a semblance of predictability. Despite the disorder and disruption of his life, Boomer remained cheerful, resilient, and ebullient.
My husband and I became Boomer’s forever family, and it is a commitment I will always honor. I am reinvesting my energy in Boomer’s training with a highly-structured weeknight routine that includes energetic ball chasing and retrieving, a mostly peaceful evening walk, and a half hour of “placing” in a particular spot which allows him to relax and refocus. Afterwards he is an altogether calmer dog, and I watch and wonder at his comical charm.
Years ago, someone wrote that they learned the most important life lessons in Kindergarten. I would say I gleaned most of them from dogs. Boomer taught me to question my perspective and reevaluate a situation unfettered by the emotion of self-interpretation. Boomer showed me how to step back and see him as purely lovable; he is free of calculation or motive other than to live life to its fullest.
He also taught me that if you are persistent, high spirited, and incorrigible, you will usually get what you want!