meditation upon a challenging dog...

We are the proud owners of an anxious, stubborn and wounded dog: Lucie. She is a delight when left to herself save if there is thunder or an unexpected knock upon the door. Then all hell breaks loose in wave upon wave of worry. In our semi-rural solitude, however, Lucie is gentle. Klutzy and unaware of her own strength, to be sure, goofy and careless with her tail and gangly legs as well; but filled with an affectionate spirit that cancels out most everything else. She loves to snuggle. She thinks of herself as a lap dog (who just happens to weigh 70lbs.) She waits with childlike anticipation for me every morning to hug and then rub her ears. She loves to chase tennis balls through the wetlands. Or prance and play hide and go seek in the snow. She is a comedian, a companion, and a cherished member of our small family.

She is also stubborn. Let me say that again: Lucie is the most stubborn animal I have ever encountered. If she chooses not to listen - or obey - no amount of huffing, puffing, fuming, or shouting will change her course. If she doesn't want to be helpful, she's likely to willfully ignore all calls to the contrary. Exasperating is not too strong a word - and all the colorful language and volume in creation will not make a difference. It could be the appearance of an unexpected squirrel. Or the arrival of a young skunk under the deck. It might be a crow flying over head or simply the cascade of falling acorns from the oak. Whatever grabs her attention in that moment, derails every other plan. And she is so damn strong that if you are not prepared, she'll pull you over in the process adding pain to frustration.

Unlike our other pets, Lucie has remained immune to good training. Following the best protocols and habits of the Monks of New Skete, masters of effective dog training, Lucie ignored it all. Yes, she will sit or stay - especially if there is expensive cheddar cheese or a fresh baguette involved - and she will often go down upon command if my voice is vigorous enough. But only for a millisecond before she's offer to explore distractions of her own selection. It is not that she is mischievous or ill-tempered, mind you. Not at all. She is simply unable and often unwilling to focus. As a waitress who owns another dog from the same litter asked us a few years ago, "Is yours neurotic, too?" In spades, honey, in spades!

Please note that I have not yet mentioned what Lucie is like when overcome by anxiety or fear. In those times, she is a beast awash in terror. Not violent, but pure, unbridled, animal instinct. She could be aggressive if backed into a corner but her inclination towards flight is stronger than her will to fight. Once, when a loved one's dog was startled by Lucie's unexpected arrival and went for her throat, Lucie didn't back down. She could have mauled that smaller dog and done real damage. Thankfully we were able to pry them apart before too much destruction took place. It made clear just how powerful our dog can be if pushed too far. But mostly she just goes berserk, spinning around doing 360's on the lease in a frantic search for escape. Our daily constitutionals with her while on sabbatical in Montreal were unnerving as these escapades happened twice daily. The only short term solution, said a Quebecois dog trainer consultant, was to give her some beer 20 minutes before each walk. Like whisky on the gums of a teething infant back in the old days, this mild sedative was disorienting enough to let a walk in the park actually happen.

When Lucie goes wild, I get angry. And when it is in public, I am embarrassed, too. But here's the deal: so what. My feelings change nothing and often make things worse. So, in an upside-down way, Lucie has helped me practice being incrementally more patient. Practical, too, as we need to strategize ways for her to be out in the real world. It is anguishing to see how unglued she becomes. It is also sobering because there is nothing we can do to change or fix it. As they say the best we can do is to accept what is real - and deal with it with as much love as possible.

Thanks be to God she loves the women at our kennel. They love and understand her, too. It makes life easier knowing that when we have to be away, she is at least under the care of gentle spirits who know what she needs and give it to her. I still wish I could make her better. But I can't can't. How many times each day do I pray: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference?