Old Dog, New Lessons

In August, I posted about learning lessons from my ten-year-old Cocker Spaniel, Tux.

I learned another lesson from Tux a couple of weeks ago. We were out walking when a small dog started carrying on from his place of safety behind his chain link fence. Tux was okay with the frenetic activity of the small dog running back and forth trying to provoke Tux. When the other dog stopped and started barking and talking trash, it was more than Tux could stand and he took umbrage.

I was sure Tux would, at the very least, lunge at the other dog. No. What he did was to stop and look hard at the trash-talking mutt. Then Tux turned his head away and approached his sister who had been watching the interaction between the two males.

In the doggie equivalent of a high five, he walked over to his sister and gently touched noses with her. I’ve only seen him do this once before, and under similar circumstances. It was as if he were saying that he was the bigger dog for walking away and his sister was agreeing with him, and, indeed, was proud of him for doing that.

How many times have we allowed ourselves to be provoked into action by someone else’s words only to rue the reaction to those fighting words? I, myself, allowed myself to get provoked the other day when we were walking in a park that posted that all dogs have to be on leashes. When we rounded a bend in the sidewalk, a man was coming toward us and his dog was off leash. Knowing Tux as I do, I called to the man to please leash his dog. He ignored me. So I called to him again to leash his dog. His response was not to leash his dog, but to continue to advance on us. By this time, Tux, too, was being provoked because he knows it is his duty to protect his sister and his Mom and here was an unleashed dog heading toward us. Finally, in my best school teacher voice, I ordered “Leash your dog.”

Finally, the man tried to do just that. Not that his dog went to him when he was called. The man had to chase down his undisciplined dog, which, of course, amused me no end to see an overweight arrogant man chasing a dog around in circles. He did get his dog on a leash and as we passed one another on the path, with his dog growling and snarling, Tux had had enough and lunged at the other dog. He and I both knew that because I had him on a short leash, nothing would happen. But neither the man nor his dog knew that. The dog was totally intimidated. So, too, was the man.

I couldn’t help but mutter as we passed, “Keep your damned dog on a leash in the park.” His response was a snarled juvenile retort, “You don’t own this park.”

I know better than to allow people to provoke me. Nothing is served by it. While there was momentary satisfaction on my part for having spoken up, the interchange did nothing to change the man’s attitude that he didn’t need to obey the leash laws, that he was special, and the laws weren’t meant for him.

So now, I simply do what I have to do to protect Tux and his sister as well as myself from harm. If it’s turning and going in the opposite direction of the unleashed dog, we will do that.

Luckily, though, I’ve not seen that man and his in my park again.

Learning New Tricks or What an Old Dog Can Teach Us

Tux and the Bush

I have a male dog named Tux (his name has been changed so the other dogs at the park won’t mock him). The other day we were out for our morning walk in the park. As we passed a bush, he paused, lifted his leg, and did his thing.

So what? You may ask. No big deal, you say. Ah, but it was a big deal. Tux is ten years old. He’s never, ever lifted his leg before.

What Are the Lessons for Tux?

Old dogs do learn new tricks. Tux is living proof of that. He took a risk that

1. He wouldn’t fall over,
2. He could perform his duty like a male, and
3. No one would make fun of him.

Luckily, there was no one around to see him except me, and I was too stunned to say a word (I did, however, give a fist pump when his back was turned).

Why did he do it? My guess is that because he’d been talking trash with three rude dachshunds over the last few months and his manhood had been impugned. He was determined to prove he was, indeed, macho. He only needed to lift his leg once to prove his point.

I didn’t want to ask how the mouthy dachshunds knew he’d lifted his leg, but I suspect that he didn’t need to prove his manhood to them because he’d proven it to himself. They probably knew right away by the way he swaggered up to them.

What Are the Lessons for You and I?

There are three lessons that you and I can take away from this episode.

1. If you’re going to take a risk, minimize the consequences.
2. You needn’t prove anything to anyone but yourself.
3. Take pride in whatever you do.

Taking a risk is hard we all know that. It can be scary as hell under the best of circumstances and terrifying under good circumstances. Sometimes, though, we need to risk in order to advance, to feel alive, to prove to ourselves that we can.

It would be wonderful if every risk we take paid huge dividends. But they don’t. Some risks turn out to be unmitigated disasters. Ignore the naysayers in your life. You’ve proven to yourself that you can and will take a risk for what you want.

If the risk you take turns out to be a complete disaster, don’t hang your head as if you did something bad. You didn’t. You did what you thought was best at the time you did it. So hold your head high. You are a risk taker. Take pride in that because so many others play it safe all the time.

Pride and Panache

Tux hasn’t bothered to lift his leg again. He’s returned to squatting like a girl, but now he does it with pride and panache.