Letter to my dog....

Dearest Dog,

I want to start this letter by reminding you that I, as your dog-mom, will always love you no matter what.  I also want to remind you that if you ever again act the way you acted tonight, I will lovingly choke you with my bare hands.  You see, when you attempt to bite me because you are angry that you have such a "stupid human" to work with, I find you offensive.  You probably picked up on that when the world came crashing down on you after such heinous behaviour....

Embarrassingly for me, I think the entire class found us both offensive.  (I'm not sure if you noticed their horrified stares or not, but go team!)  Good news is, we get to go back again next week!  Bad news is, I am still your partner...  Let's collectively work harder at keeping things civil between the two of us.  Now, I know that deep down inside your little Border Collie heart, you love me.  That love is somewhere, smooshed between loving to work without me and wanting to herd the cats, but you can't fool me, it's in there!  (I see the same look of annoyance on your face that I see on my teenage daughter's face, but I have faith you will come around to your senses soon.)  Until you come around, I, your mother, will just continue to drive you all over the county to agility lessons, nose work lessons, herding lessons, feed you premium organic kibble and insure you have the best veterinary care, all because I love you and I want you to succeed in life.  It's okay, I trust you appreciate me and you can thank me later.

Love,
Your Mom

What he said!

Yesterday when I wrote the post about how I didn't like for people to call my dogs "rescued", I didn't just ruffle one lady's feathers, I quite frankly pissed her off...  She took my blog post rather personal, and was very vocal about that fact in an online creative group.  She accused me of "demonizing" rescue and all sorts of other things, inviting me to "come into the trenches of rescue" (Clearly she has no idea I have lived in the trenches for the better part of 2 decades...), etc...  Bottom line she was WAY upset about what I wrote.

I still stand firm in what I said yesterday, and there was never an intended dis towards rescue.  It was the fact that people automatically equate the words "rescue" and "abuse" as the same thing and feel sorry for a "rescue" dog because it's had a "hard life", when honestly if we took the label away and just let the dog be a dog, allowing it to have a clean slate, to re-create it's life from the first moment of being in our lives, real healing starts to take place immediately.  It allows the dog to move forward and get on with life, something we humans are not good at.  

Fellow author/friend Jon Katz wrote a blog post about my post yesterday and perfectly summed up what I was trying to say.  

Follow the link here:  http://www.bedlamfarm.com/2015/11/01/rescue-and-abuse-animals-as-teachers/  for his post.  

Thank you Jon!  Once again your written word was quite enlightening....

Don't call my dog "rescued"......

She's here!

This morning I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of a foster dog, whom is coming to me from several states away.  While she is here she will be having her leg amputated due to an old injury that was not repaired, and by the look in her eyes, she will be learning to trust, love and just be a dog again.

 

As I was on the phone this morning scurrying to find a crate for this girl, one of my kind and well-meaning friends said:  “Oh, that poor dog!  I am glad she has been rescued, and now she will be loved as a rescued dog!”  I know that my friend means well, seriously, she is one of the kindest people I know, but can I just say I hate the term “rescued”?

 

The term “rescued” in my mind deems a dog “less than”.  Do adoptive parents walk around introducing their children as:  “This is my biological son, Michael, and my adopted son, Joseph.”?  No!

To think of a dog as a “rescue” dog automatically labels it and puts you in the frame of mind to feel sorrow, or excuse it’s behaviour, and that label holds the dog back from moving forward in life.  I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard an owner say:  "Oh, he bites because he was a rescue dog."  or "We don't make her do that because she was abused in her last home."  I have some advise for you:  Get over it!  The dog has!  And if the dog hasn't it's because of the emotional baggage you have now placed on the dog by trying to "save" it from it's past life. 

 

When this girl gets here, she will be greeted by a group of semi-well behaved (Chihuahuas are never well behaved…) dogs who will lay a lot of my ground work.  These dogs make it easy for me to rehabilitate dog after dog because they were once her and I “chose” to invest in them.  She will be treated like every other dog that has ever come through this house.  She will be expected to not fight or bite, to potty outside, and as soon as she is well enough, she will be given a job.  (Nosework, obedience, etc…) 

To a dog that has never been given a chance, or had someone to love it, the best gift you can give it, is to be allowed to move forward with life.  Dogs live in the moment, and don’t dwell on the past, so why would we hold them back?

A Bitchy Gem

This has been a particularly rough week in terms of training Lilly.  For whatever reason, she has been crazily wound up all week anytime we work, to the point that she is missing hides on the first/second pass because she is in a constant state of tail tucked, ears back, smile on her face euphoria anytime we work.  Why?  Only Lilly knows....

In order to harness some of her happiness and restore order to our life, I decided to take her to the dog park tonight with the hope we would find some dopey, adolescent male Labrador, that might not mind an intense border collie bossing him around.  Sadly, though no one was at the dog park.

Well, until this man showed up at the fence and started watching us.

After this guy stood quietly at the fence watching us for 15 minutes, my mind went to the darkest place imaginable.  And I was just getting ready to go into total panic when he says to me in the most quaint Irish accent:  "Is your dog a bitch?"

Immediately, my ears perked up, partly because of the accent and partly because if some uses the term "bitch" to discuss your dog, you know they have been around dogs.

Me: "Excuse me?"
Gentleman:  "Is your Border Collie a bitch?"

"Assuming you are asking if she is female, yes.  Yes she is.  Although, if you are truly asking if she's a bitch, she's that too.", I said with a chuckle.

He laughed and asked:  "Does she bite?!"

I laughed again, "There's a strong possibility she might."

Man:  "Can I pet her?!"

Me:  "Um, sure?  If you really want to.  She is leery of some people though."

Man:  "She reminds me of a dog I had back home in Ireland.  Great dog.  Look how symmetrical her markings are and how smart she is!"

Me:  "Yep, she's a challenge, but I love her."

He went on to tell me that he lives here with his wife, but all of his family lives back in Ireland.  They have always had Border Collies and he explained that his family owns a working sheep farm.  Just two weeks ago, he went home for a visit and was able to work with his brother on his brother's farm.  The whole time he was talking to me, Lilly was totally smitten with this man.  She was sitting in his lap, with her tongue lolled out to the side, in total "doggie heaven".

He said:  "Do you mind if I play with her for a minute?"

Me:  "No, be my guest!"

He kicked the soccer ball we had away from us and as Lilly went to chase it, he used a series of whistles and body language to block her movement until she herded that ball right back to us!  The two of them did this several times before we had to leave, and as we were leaving, he thanked me and said he hoped he would see us again.

His parting comments will stay with me for a bit....

"In Ireland, we look for the Border Collie bitch that is strong.  She has to be willing to listen and work with us, yet ignore us and think for herself.  You have yourself one heck of a dog there.  She is a gem!"

I have to think this guy is right on the money.  Although Lilly comes more baggage than an airport, she is quite the gem!

Beautiful child.....

Beautiful child, my hope for you is that you see the same beauty in yourself that I see in you.

Your contagious smile, your laughter, and the purity to always see the good in everyone you meet.

That you never settle for less than you are worth, and that your soul stays as innocent as it is today.

I pray when you get lost in life you remember I love you more than the air I breathe, and I would give you my last dying breath if it meant you would live a moment longer.

I as a parent was supposed to teach you about the world, but honestly, you have taught me so much more.

You have taught me to be kind.  To love with abandon.  To ignite my inner passion.

To do what I love everyday, and to savor each moment.

I am humbled and in awe of you every single day.

 I am so blessed to be your mom.....

 

No manners?! No problem!

No, we don't make it a habit of allowing our dogs to sit on the dining room table, and right after I took these pictures, the little bum was escorted back onto the floor. But seriously, have you seen a little dog with bigger moxy?!  

Some days you try to instill manners, and some days you just realize you are failing.

No manners?!  No problem!

Giving my pastor the finger, yet another life lesson....

Now, this is going to come as a surprise to some of you however, I have a confession to make...

I am intense and I lack patience.

I have been trying very hard to slow down, relax, and exert patience whenever possible, however these are areas within myself that still need work.  The truth about me is, I constantly attack life with 100% of myself.  I seldom relax, and I multi-task in a way that would make an air traffic controller juggling fire look sedate.

People constantly ask me:  "How do you do everything that you do?"  Well, the answer is, I do life fast, with a purpose and I am bold beyond reason most days.

This takes us to Friday....

Friday afternoon, I ran to the grocery store after work and then in my post grocery store "I just spent $178- but still don't want to cook" state of mind, I decided I had to have Chipotle for dinner.  Quickly, I hit up Chipotle, took it "to-go" since I had my groceries in the car,and headed home.  I was SO excited about the Chipotle sitting next to me that I could NOT get there fast enough.

Two miles down the road there was a stop light.  The car in front of me was stopped and preparing to turn left, and the car coming at them was stopped and was preparing to turn left also.  We were stopped for approximately 27 seconds, which in my mind was WAY too long, while we waited for one of them "to own" the turn so we could all go about our business.  As we are sitting there a dark blue Camaro goes whizzing by me on the right, and my thoughts:  "At least one of might get home in a timely fashion tonight!"

So, I did what came naturally to me.
I ashamed God.

I rolled down my window, honked the horn, flipped off the car coming at me, and screamed "MAKE A DECISION ALREADY!!"  Then in hit me in slow motion....

**** Side note right here:  For the last little while, I have sat 9 rows from the front of our church staring at a newer pastor, whom I really don't know except in passing, and my thoughts have always been:  "Man, she looks like Sarah Palin!" ****

I looked at the car coming at me and my immediate thought was:  "Man, that woman looks just like Sarah Palin!"  Then it hit me!

I JUST FLIPPED OFF MY PASTOR!!!

I frantically called The Reluctant Farmer:  "Honey, you are never going to believe what I did!  On second thought, you probably will believe me...  I flipped off Pastor Rachel!  I AM GOING TO HELL!"

The Reluctant Farmer immediately starts laughing hysterically, and in her calm, and even tone says:  "I told you that was going to catch up with you one day."

I was NOT amused.  "Honey, stop laughing at me!  This is not cool!  We are going to have to switch churches.  I can never go back there again!  OH MY GOD!"

Then The Reluctant Farmer promptly pipes up with:  "Aren't they going to notice when you don't show up for your Sunday school class?"

CRAP!  I had not thought of that!  I teach Sunday school to the young children of Jesus every week. (No worries, I do NOT teach them how to give folks "the bird" while driving.)  Someone is going to notice if I disappear....

So, I stewed on this for the rest of the night AND was still stewing on this when The Reluctant Farmer got home from work.

RF:  "Hey there!  Are you still upset about flipping the pastor off in a fit of road rage?!"
Me:  "YES!  I can't show my face there EVER again!  We are NOT going back!  I am so EMBARRASSED!"
RF:  "Would you feel different about this situation if the person had not been Pastor Rachel?
Me:  "Yes.  I wouldn't feel guilty at all!"
RF:  "That is NOT Christian like behaviour!  Why were you in such a hurry anyway?  Were you late for something?!"
Me, with my head hung in shame:  "No, I wanted to eat my Chipotle!"
RF:  "All that for Chipotle?!"
Me:  "It made logical sense at the time...."

Then in my mind I thought, perhaps Pastor Rachel had not seen me.  It would be between me and God, and no one would be the wiser.  I would repent by sitting in the front row, tithing an extra 2%, and all would be right with the world.  Except in my heart I did not just let God down.  I let myself down too....

So, this morning I went to church, and you know what?!

Whether it be guilt, coincidence, or just God trying to teach me a lesson, Pastor Rachel was EVERYWHERE!  I saw her when I came out of the bathroom, when I stood in line for my coffee, when I stopped to talk to some folks in the lobby, when I walked to my seat.  Heck, I saw her more in the 30 minutes before church than I normally would have seen her if she was preaching that Sunday!

Then, as she and her husband were standing alone for a minute before service started, I saw my opportunity to make things right with God, Pastor Rachel, and her family.

Me:  "Um, hi.  I think I owe you an apology.  I may have been less than Christ-like in my driving on Friday night, and I don't know if you noticed or not, but I pretty much flipped you off.  And I am sorry...."

Immediately, they both started laughing, and asked me where this happened because they had not seen me acting like a nut.  (Praise Jesus!)  And Rachel went on to explain they were stopped, and about to make the turn when they saw that blue Camaro, barreling up the side of the road, and were discussing the fact that they were both glad they had not turned because that car would have hit them.
Thankfully Pastor Rachel saw the humor in the situation and I have learned a valuable lesson.  I will never use my middle finger again while driving.  

Message received, God!  
Message received....