We got a dog last Christmas. We did all the things you're supposed to do --- research and read, consult the vet, even check with my daughter's pediatrician. We had family meetings and plans and scouting missions. Six months of preparations for one spectacular Christmas morning.
My daughter, an only child, had initially approached us about the dog. Her big brown eyes sealed my fate when she explained, "It would be like having the brother or sister I will never have." I had to use every bit of restraint not to run down to the local maternity ward and bribe a nurse to let me borrow one of the newborns for a while. Afterward, my husband was afraid that every questioning look I gave him would lead to "the baby conversation" again.
And so it was decided we would get a dog. For months leading up to the big event, we all began to get a picture of what this dog would be like. For my daughter, a playmate and someone to grow up with. For me, someone to cuddle and baby, not to mention ease some of that aforementioned guilt. For my husband... well, giving in could mean a lot of nights free to play video games with no one to bother him. After all, he never wanted a dog in the first place.
We rescued the dog from an animal shelter and had one of the most magical holiday mornings ever. My daughter tossed squeaky toys around, I snuggled with the dog on the sofa, and my husband watched football in peace, with no one begging him to put "Rudolph" in the DVD player for the 30th time.
Our dog, Moon, began to get comfortable in the family. And that's when her personality began to show. A dominant, aggressive personality. She growled. She curled her lip. She snapped if you got too close to her toys. I began to be afraid, not wanting her alone with my daughter. We brought her to dog trainer after trainer, but the problems seemed to escalate. Finally, one trainer told us to give the dog back. Heartbroken, I wasn't sure what to do. My fantasy of what a dog would be like and how she would fit in our family was rapidly fading.
Before making a decision that could have potentially landed me in the "world's most horrible mother "category, I decided to feel my daughter out .
"Maggie, how are you feeling about Moon? She is not so much fun right now, huh?"
"Not so much, Mommy."
I nodded. "Not what you thought owning a dog would be like."
"No," Maggie replied, and then she said something that shocked me. "But Moon is just the best dog I could ever imagine."
My eyes teared. For the life of me, I could not see what it was that my daughter liked about Moon. The dog jumped up on everyone (Maggie worst of all), she ate all of Maggie's toys, she barked and bit if you got too close. Maggie wasn't even allowed to hug her own dog without my husband or I standing guard.
Finally, in what we thought would be a futile attempt, we saw one more trainer. I cried my heart out to him about the woes of my wayward dog. Stone-faced, the trainer just looked at me and asked "And?"
And? Did he not just hear me? My dog was not the cuddly baby I had imagined!
"Of course," he agreed. "She's not the baby you imagined, because... well, because she's a dog."
I stared at him. And that's when I got it. That's when it suddenly made sense to me, how Maggie could love Moon in a way that I hadn't been able to. Because Maggie saw this little animal for what the little animal was, not what we all wanted her to be. In that sense she was the best dog ever --- the best Moon.
In the weeks that followed, the trainer continued to teach me what Maggie already taught me. Treat Moon like a dog --- the dog she is --- not my hopes and dreams and unfulfilled wishes. In that moment, I saw Moon for her own being, not my expectations. While she is not perfect, treating her this way has helped her to relax and live as her real self. No pressures to be more than who she is. Now she is happier. We all are happier.
The experience made me wonder. Do I sometimes do this same thing with the humans in my life --- expecting them to fulfill some ideal of my own, instead of just allowing them to be themselves, with no expectations? So now, when I find myself in struggle with someone, I will remember the early days of Moon, and I will ask myself if I am "allowing" or "expecting." And if I can honestly answering "allowing," and there is still conflict, I will make peace by giving them a meaty treat.
Namaste
Krissy