Cosmo and I were about halfway through our training sessions before I let them trail off. Training a dog is hard! I hate following directions. I hate tedious, repetitive tasks. And I love the idea of letting an animal run wild chasing his instincts through the woods. However, I also can’t stomach the panic that sets in after I’ve called his name and too much time has passed. I just kept thinking this time will be different, this time he’ll come when I call. Umm….the very definition of insanity!! A couple of weeks ago when a state trooper trailed Cosmo through a park repeating DOG AT LARGE into his walkie-talkie, I hit bottom at last.
And so, we’re in training again. Wednesday afternoon the field was empty and the day was warm. Cosmo responded exceedingly well to his commands while Virginia rolled around happily in the tall grass. It wasn't until we were almost in the car that I smelled it. Dog shit streaked through Virginia’s coat of many colors. She was so proud!! I tried not to gag. We drove home to find the scrub brush, shampoo, and garden hose.
At least I'm not changing baby diapers, I thought, and so far my husband's still got control over his bowels. But something within you shifts irreversibly when you become a parent— the ability to deal with someone else's shit. It's no longer taboo, it’s just a fact of everyday life.
The trick is figuring out whose shit you are willing to deal with. There are intimacies that break boundaries and lines that should not be crossed. I had no boundaries when I was young, no sense of where I started and another began. Everything was up for grabs, open for the taking. I took too much shit, and gave too much, too. Learning boundaries is like learning when it’s safe to run wild through the forest and when it’s best to stay on the path.
One of my mother’s buttons says, “I love my boundaries, they set me free.” So true! I’m not as wild as I once was but I’m not dead, either. My dogs love to chase deer through the woods, eat dead animals, and roll in shit. I don't know what I can teach them, but these days I’m willing to learn.
Unsolicited advice is criticism
— ancient Jewish proverb