via Barbecue “Baked” Beans

Michael whipped up a batch of slow cooker baked beans with bacon. The whole house smelled like comfort food and with the cold air outside that makes your breath freeze in your throat, I was not unhappy to “supervise” Michael’s efforts. He was more than competent and quite honestly, other than pushing him to be more descriptive, he did not need me.

Baby Silas has become all too comfortable under our feet. He was busy helping Michael follow the recipe directions by “patting” his perfect paws on Michael’s feet so that he was not forgotten in the process.

Michael has fallen completely in love with Silas and as his training stabilizes into routine I know that he must soon go home. I calm my thoughts to put my feelings aside as I try to ignore the compressing pain in my heart at the thought of his departure.

I am humbled by our family. How accommodating they all are to the changing dynamics of animals under our feet. The compassion and tolerance is second to none and I could not be more proud to be a part of it.

Today baked, slow cooked beans, tomorrow…Ham! Yum!

We must make a mistake to learn.

Lance is a tall, dark, confident guy….who’s favorite hobby is watching the world pass by while he awaits his favorite meal served to him by his stubborn, good hearted, white haired, handsome butler. His loving family has left Lance in my capable care with the additional request to teach him some boundaries. Sounds simple enough!

Teaching a dog to not bolt through the door is a basic essential. It gets a lot easier to understand the importance of this lesson when you have a 150lb German Shepard pushing his weight against a solid door that’s slamming into your face. After making the mistake of expecting this beautiful creature to instinctually respect my personal space, I inch the door open slowly with only a nose to control instead of the entire beast. Surprising for his intense presence, Lance is instantaneously from one side of the room to the other before my brain can process the situation. I must act instinctually, and quickly!

The problem with my instincts is that if I don’t think it through, my emotions take over. My brain is quietly coaching me to breathe and focus. I instinctually position my body to control Lance’s movement. Lance takes this step towards him as a challenge. It is in this moment my emotions creep into my brain like an old rocky creek bed that accepts a trickle of clear spring water, silently weaving around and under before the churning wave hits with an all consuming rush.

Lance has won. We both know it. I try to regain my calm confidence as he puts his head down and strategizes at incredible speeds a hundred ways he can get rid of me. My stubbornness gives a cheerleaders “ho-rah” as I corner him, furthering the challenge. It is at this point he could easily take me down for the imposter that I am. He remembers that he has a loving family butler returning for him and he chooses to smartly bite my hand in warning. I concede.

It is at this point my good sense of reasoning takes over. Lance chooses to go and see what’s happening through his short doggy door, out into the play yard. He totally disregards this lump of pathetic human who opens the door for him with a curtsy and a bowl of food. I shamefully latch the door behind him with an insignificant shiny metal clip. Now to find the words to tell his “butler” that I cannot train this lap dog to respect me. I simply lack the tools to control my emotions in the face of danger. Yep! I’m a girl!!

Silas on the other hand…a spoiled, entitled, fluff ball of absolute perfection has made leaps and bounds. His manners at doorways have him sitting and looking at me with those deep brown respectful eyes for permission. You can see his little body shaking as he copes with the stress of self control which (in time) will become a mindless habit IF I can keep reminding him consistently. His self control in his kennel at night is improving. The tantrums have narrowed the destruction to simple nesting behaviour to deal with his anxiety. I am able to go into the kennel in the morning and let all the big dogs out…saving him for last…while he patiently and quietly waits his turn. He even waits at the open door of his nighttime prison as his bladder screams to be emptied. He looks up at me proudly and respectfully watches for that tiny gesture of release.

The release comes with an adorable skid around the corner that almost knocks his legs out from underneath him as he beats me to the next door and sits his furry butt on the step. I praise him and resist the urge to gather him into my arms and take in his goodness as I know it will result in my snow boots covered in warm exploding pee.

I contemplate the issue of his sporadic aggression. How can I teach him appropriate behaviour without creating a situation in which he fails? I know that I have to set him up to fail, to teach him. Setting him up in this situation means putting a child at risk. I can teach him self control, good manners and respectful behaviour. I can give him enough exercise, discipline and structure so he achieves and soars beyond his potential. But what is next for him? Does he return to his family? How does Silas look at the small angelic face that he split open with his teeth and promise to never do it again? How does that angelic child’s face forgive the trauma of a wild animal so close to his eye that Silas must have looked like a monster bearing down on him? A life changing trauma that will certainly follow the humans that love Silas, not only in physical scars but in emotional scars as well. A life changing moment that will surely restrict the love a human boy has for his dog…and perhaps, the love that his boys, after him, will have for a simple dog. How can I teach the family what changes need to be made without assigning blame? How can they possibly forgive?

Lance has yet to hurt a human. But this moment is coming. When this German Shepard releases his frustration, pent-up energy and disrespect on a human being…he will be euthanized and pay the ultimate price for human stubbornness. Silas has hurt a human, a child, the most precious of us all. Because he is small and fluffy and cute he gets to keep his life. He gets another chance to learn new things and become a productive member of society. These two families may or may not make good choices. But the decisions they make will come from good hearts and well meaning intentions. That in itself is the right choice, if not a good one.

Teaching simple boundaries is so complicated! Lance is a young adult who was neutered late in life. He has the instinct of a working dog and the power to support his almost every wish. As a trainer I lack the emotional resolve, and physical presence to challenge Lance into a corner and win. He is a disrespectful, entitled, millennial. Silas is a teenager who was neutered early. He has the fun loving instinct to live in the moment. As a trainer I have the confidence and knowledge to be consistent and challenge him without fear. He is a disrespectful, entitled, millennial. Fair? NOPE! If only life was fair.

I must concentrate on the things I have control over. I can control Silas as an individual and be useful to his life’s progress with his human’s. I cannot control the humans in his life. I cannot help or advise in Lance’s situation…I must simply walk away. I made a mistake in thinking that I could help Lance. My lesson in that is to concentrate my efforts on where I can help. Concentrated help is more powerful than half hearted help.

Next mission: How to inspire the human’s in Silas’ life…to be consistent, ignore Silas and change how the children interact with him at a fundamental level. Yep! Easy! Anyone know how to teach humans? (sigh)

Snow that lingers is waiting for more snow.

Kinda like a mistake that lingers without responsibility is waiting for compounding trouble.

Why is it, that as humans, we cannot admit mistake? Why can we not use that mistake to learn from it and show the world that we, the definition of what it means to be human, are humble? What if that deeply felt humbleness is the only thing that leads us all to “better”. A mindful eye opening “better” that allows us to see how the old saying: “If you love something set it free. If it comes back it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be.”, makes us “better”.

I know that a family pet teaches many life lessons that we as humans may not be able to teach, or unwilling to teach. Empathy, calm, self control, responsibility, dedication, simple enjoyment and inevitable loss. We know that empathy makes us better people. As well meaning and humble parents we make the life long commitment to welcome an animal into our home.

How we make the decision is based completely on who we are. Sometimes we choose a Cocker Spaniel because they are cute and fluffy. Husky’s are so talkative and expressive, a smart Poodle will be easy to train, a Jack Russell Terrier will require less grooming, our Dad had German Shepards when I was young…I’d love to relive my childhood through a new puppy. Then the search begins…online hashtags, google and youtube distract us as we surf to find a local shelter or breeder that can provide us with the pup of our choice at the right price. We contemplate color, age, sex, breed, size, paper vs non-paper, breeder vs rescue. Then we must muddle through the definitions of “puppy mill”, “back yard breeder”, “responsible breeder”, “shelter”, “rescue”, “hoarding”…and once we realise that there is no clear definition, we throw our hands in the air and give up. All we can do is find a well meaning person and hope we are making the right choice.

When we get puppy home, we change our lives to enjoy, love and provide for this helpless creature that destroys our homes, schedules and quiet peace. Our love knows no boundaries as we cuddle, swaddle and kiss our new family members. We take our pictures and display them proudly on facebook waiting (not so patiently) for the world to press that little thumbs up button under our photo. We empty our pockets doing “the right thing” according to vets, breeders, groomers, kennels, pet stores and food companies. By the time we are done wadding through the ripples of advice from “professionals”…we truly have no idea between right and wrong. We end up guessing and hoping for the best, like tossing a tiny, weightless dime into the wind of a tornado and straining into the wind to see what side it lands on. Our exhaustion becomes a daily drum beat that we click our feet into and wait for the cover of midnight to finally rest.

Our relentless beat of raising a teenage dog which just a moment ago was our perfect life changing puppy…we forgo basic training, we simply have no time. Allergies start to appear in the form of itchy feet, forcing us into endless trials of commercial foods until we surrender and start making a raw homemade diet. Our weariness then creeps it’s way into forgoing daily exercise and instead building concrete fences and secluding our “babies” to their new “play ground”.

Our endless pursuit of the perfect life shows itself in our fruitless list of impossible chores. Our pup’s life has gone from one of photos on facebook to a backyard full of toys. The stress of commercial food, loneliness, boredom and directionless pent-up energy displays very physically in our animal companions. They start licking at spots on their legs and feet until the skin raises, hair falls out and a heat radiates from that source making the “spot” an issue that can’t be resolved externally.  We use a simple laser light to create a game that keeps our butt’s planted on the couch, and creates a “toy” that can never be caught…changing the composition of their brain until our beloved “babies” chase shadows like mosquitoes chase blood. The disrespect is clear from their little paws as they jump on our clean jeans, bolt through the mud and into our homes at the slightest crack in the front door, bite our children and sign their death warrants. After all, it’s only fair, we have disrespected them by not providing their basic needs.

It is simply because they are bad dogs. Right? What can we do? We can’t throw them away! The money, time and energy put into the first year of their life was without question, extensive. We will not admit defeat. We will not fail! At the expense of the lessons we are teaching our children of never making a mistake. At the expense of our dog’s who are physically suffering. At the expense of the personal emotional torture of saying “I was wrong.”.

The humble mistakes we confess to, might actually lead our dogs to a better life of purpose, a life without obsessions and physical pain. The control we let go of might teach our children that mistakes are made so we can learn. We never stop learning. Imagine if we could lead by example so our children know in their hearts that to hang on to our narrow minded control, simply and profoundly means those mistakes will only compound until we cannot look behind us.

Giving the dog you love a better life than you can give them, makes us better humans.

Finally the lunar eclipse is over! This sign of the apocalypse comes with the belief that our good or bad deeds are multiplied tenfold. After this week of just keeping my head down and getting through one drama fest after another…I wonder if my “deeds” could be labelled as “grin and bear”…and I ponder where that puts me in line for karma.

February has begun with a cheeky rodent looking at his shadow and scampering around while men in suits predict a long lasting winter. With that insightful prediction the snow continues to fall, loading on roofs and shelters at the farm and taunting me as it creeps into my tall boots.

If snow in my boots wasn’t a clear enough sign of karma, this morning on my “doggie pickup” rounds, I had to call the local tow truck to rescue me from the avenues. Yesterday we awoke to massacre in the chicken coop. What was left of my precious girls huddled in an corner of their outdoor run, afraid to move. One of my favorite canine’s Silas, started a strict training regime, my princess pony fighting her appropriate diet limitations, my perfect Henry with an ear infection…. All these daily dramas added to raising a teenage son, overwhelming work load as Jason and I catch up from our break and  I  am  tired.

I beg karma to see how hard I try and ignore the drama that swallows me in darkness. I work very hard to start each new day off on the right foot…to be excited about new challenges and forgive the “blame” game for disrupting my “responsibility” blinders. I want to blog about what I learn each day…how I struggle to do what I know to be right when my heart leads me in a different direction betraying my responsibility.

The puppy Silas has come to me this week for a “Bakers Acres Bootcamp” session. His family loves him so much that he has forgotten how to be a dog. He is their baby. He no longer sees himself as a dog. I want so much to invite him in the house, flip him on his back, cuddle and coo him like a baby. I want to pinch his fluffy baby cheeks and have him sigh while I bury my face in his belly fur. I know from my training with my young horse Nucents that Nucents boldly does not respect me. He simply doesn’t respect me because I treat him like a baby. He wants me to respect him as a horse, not as a dog or as my surrogate child, but as a horse. He is proud of who he is! When “horse people” come and treat him, respect him, as the horse he is….he follows them around and practically drools as he asks to be guided and worked. Silas is no different. I’m waiting patiently for him to look at me, respect me and simply ask to come in before I invite him. I know he needs a leader, not a mother. He needs guidance and predictability. He needs to learn to be proud of being a dog! If I invite him in the house and cuddle him (like my heart is screaming for), I take away his pride in being a dog. I kill his spirit, his chance to shine.

So many people have no understanding of this. They simply cannot see past their dog as being their baby. They expect their dog to become human and forget who they instinctually were born to be. Imagine if I told my 14 year old son he had to become a dog and I was going to treat him as such, making him eat on the floor and sleep in a dog bed, petting him while he was growling at me because I think it’s cute…it might be funny at first but then the world would surely end in disaster. I would lose my son. I would have no respect for him, nor he for me. I would kill who he was, and maybe even who he would ever be.

It takes everything in my heart to not reach out to Silas as my baby. I stifle my selfish needs and wait for him to remember who he is. Fascinating thing….he truly doesn’t care. He could not care less about who I am or what I want or how hard it is for me to “ignore” him. He has no respect for me as anything but a vessel to provide him with food. I will force myself to wait patiently as he learns. The reward will be his unrelenting respect. This is so profound that it is worth the wait. (I have experienced this transition with my poodle Georgia but for very different reasons. But that is another story.) The struggle then becomes teaching the people around me, the people who think this is a harsh thought process. The people who judge and blame instead of taking the responsibility of owning a dog. We all need to stop blaming, use that bad karma moment as inspiration to learn and teach and become a better person inside. Know our limitations and accept them without blame. The people around us deserve that kind of honesty and responsibility.

Please, Karma, who ever you are…be merciful…I am trying.