WHEN I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning I thought it odd that I began to fret about the day ahead of me.
Today was Raider's big day, the big snip snip, and even though I was remotely opposed to having it done so early - before a year of age - I had gone to bed the night before thinking I was doing the right thing. I had weighed the pros and cons and decided that Raider would be just fine as I knew I would be providing him an exceptionally healthy life, physically, mentally and emotionally, and in doing so would minimize any risks that early neutering might pose. That's what I convinced myself of anyway.
So why was I so fidgety? I knew that Raider was a special little dog to me, as all my dogs are, but I didn't really feel the same degree of attachment to him, like I do my dog Piper for example.
So as I got ready to take him to the veterinarian I was perplexed at my agitation.
Maybe I just needed my usual cup of java and a blueberry scone. "Ya, that's it," I told myself.
Driving to the clinic, Raider knew something was up. Normally he sits in the back seat cool as a cucumber, but today he was bouncing around like he was sitting on hot coals. My guilt started to set in. When we got to the clinic, he didn't want to get out of the truck! Once I finally got him out, he immediately ran to the end of his leash, in the other direction of where we were heading! My heart was starting to break.
Thinking of a large latte, I regained my composure and we entered the clinic, signed in and waited for the vet to come give him a checkup.
All was going well until I placed him into the kennel.
I turned to the vet assistant with tears welling up in my eyes and said, "I have to go, now, please take good care of him!" and I ran out of the clinic like I was being chased by a hyena.
I sat in my truck for a few moments, pretending I was checking my cellphone so people in the parking lot wouldn't see I was crying. My reaction to Raider's neutering had caught me off guard, until I realized what it was really about. I wasn't upset about him getting neutered as much as I was upset about admitting to myself that this little dog really meant the world to me. For whatever reason I had been closing my heart to having this dog in my life and it wasn't until I was forced to hand him over to someone else that I admitted it to myself.
Life does that to us. It uses circumstances and situations to force us to look at what is inside our hearts when we have shielded it from the hurt from the past and the fear of the future. I knew when Raider came into my life that he had something to teach me - all of my dogs have - but you don't know what it is until you are put into a situation where the only way out is to look deep inside.
This situation was not the end of my lesson but the beginning. A door opened and, with a gentle shove by Raider, I stepped through. Upon stepping through I will take on the challenge of learning more about myself through the eyes of my dogs.
Raider, being a dog, really has no clue as to the role he plays in my life, any more than I do. At the moment he is reclining on his bed quite peacefully, unaffected by the procedure. Besides the few attempts to lick the area of his incision he hasn't missed a beat. He is happy and affectionate as always and full of adolescent energy, which I have been told to harness for a few days.
So we will just have to take it - my life lessons and his healing - one day at a time.
Joan has been working with dogs for over 15 years in obedience, tracking and behavioural rehabilitation. Contact her at k9kinship.com.
