Things I’ve Learned From My Dog
Our dog is a rescue dog. He was a stray before he went to the shelter, so we don’t know anything else about his past. They estimated him to be a little over two years old when they found him, wandering near a gas station several winters ago. I always picture him at nighttime, hungry and alone, trying to find shelter during a cold December rain.
We found him on a cattle dog rescue website, and drove two hours through a late-winter snowstorm to get him. I was looking for a dog that I could run with. My husband had wanted a dog for years. He’d been regularly showing me pictures of dogs for at least six months and couldn’t believe it when after hundreds of nos, I finally said yes to our dog’s picture.
Our dog had been at the shelter for three months when we met him. People had come for him several times in those months, but no one had taken him home yet. They probably thought he was too crazy. That he would be too wild. And he was. When we first met him in the shelter lobby, he was fixated on terrorizing the rescue rabbit in his cage.
Unsure how we would all get along, we took him out back and played with him in the snow. He was psychotic and unbelievably fast as he ran around. Sometimes he ran after the soccer ball we tossed for him. Other times he jumped as high as our faces. But there was a sparkle in his eyes when he had room to run. I could see it buried just underneath his too wild for everyone-ness.
So, we took him home. The crazy dog with enough energy for a whole litter. The underweight ball of wild and weird that would maybe never be calm or tired out. We didn’t know where he came from or if he would like us as his family. All we knew on that snowy afternoon was that he was going to be a lot. And that we probably couldn’t get him a bunny for a best friend.
The first couple weeks, and months, were rough. Sometimes I wondered if he even liked us, or if he felt like being part of our family. He pulled relentlessly and scavenged everything he could on every walk. He was aggressive towards almost all other dogs and most people. Taking him around the neighborhood wasn’t usually fun, and we never knew which cars he would yell at.
But in the first few days of this new life, we saw him melt into our house being his home. We saw the early moments of him dropping his guard around us, and glimpses into what it would be like when we all figured each other out. And when I’d take him running, I’d see uninhibited joy on his face and relief in his eyes that he finally felt more free.
Especially in the beginning, bruises and scratches constantly covered my forearms. Teaching him that he could trust us involved quite a bit of pain and a lot of patience. He had a lot of defensive ticks, and we discovered them a day at a time. They always made me wonder what he’d been through before us, or if he’s just opinionated and particular. With time I’ve learned its both. But eventually, we discovered who our dog is under all that armor.
The biggest difference to me has always been in his eyes. That first day they were hesitant and guarded, but I could also see hopeful in them. It was a hopeful he didn’t want to feel, because he didn’t want to be disappointed. But hope became happy, hesitant shifted to confident, guarded became mischievous and curious. His eyes have always told me our story.
He sometimes moves a little slower these days, and naps a little harder. But he’s still the wild dog we met at the country animal shelter on that snowy afternoon. He still gets too aggressive sometimes when we play, and he will always be a troublemaker. And, he continues to terrorize bunnies with an extreme focus he has for little else in life.
Over the years, our dog has taught me that bunnies can scream, that birds can be caught out of midair, and how many possums can survive in a litter. I’ve seen enough close calls and final breaths to know I should give every critter that passes through our backyard a head start. But because of our dog’s superior hunting skills, I’ve never had to know what it feels like to put a suffering animal out of its misery.
He’s taught me to keep all food in secure containers and stored behind closed doors. And that anything edible left unattended, especially butter, probably won’t be there when you come back. Without our dog, I probably wouldn’t know that dogs can be lactose intolerant or allergic to coconut oil. Or that watermelon and coconut water popsicles are best served for two after a run on a hot summer day.
I’ve learned the scents of the changing seasons from our dog, and all the different ways rain can smell. And how to slow down for at least a little while every day. My day no longer feel completes without walking one of our usual loops, and running even one mile together feels like a worthwhile endeavor. He reminds me of the big joys in the simple and the small.
People say that we are not worthy of dogs. I don’t know how I feel about that. I think that if we pay attention, then maybe we are. Our dogs will teach us how to enjoy life more if we’re willing to pay attention to their wisdom. And they will most certainly teach us how to be the kind of people worthy of their love when we let them into our homes and our families. Maybe it’s even more true if we let them nap on our couches. At least I think so anyway.
