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Illustration by Rania Abdallah
As many parents will attest, you can only put off your kids’ hounding for a dog so long until you finally give in and get one.
Last fall we perused dog-rescue websites and, before long, adopted Confetti (Etti for short), a beautifully spotted Dalmatian. She’s not at all the dog we expected, but she’s the one we got.
It was a bit rough at first (and still is) because although Etti is a sweet, loving dog with us, she’s highly reactive to anything else that moves (people, dogs, squirrels and, as we recently discovered, skunks).
Thankfully, we’ve found an excellent trainer – one of those dog whisperer types who makes us ordinary humans feel clueless around our canine friends. On a particularly challenging training session during which I became visibly frustrated, our trainer said: “You don’t get the dog you want, you get the dog you need.”
I remember thinking to myself, “Need?? Do I really need an anxious, high-strung Dalmatian who is not fond of other people – especially those who have the nerve to enter our home – nor other dogs, especially those who are outside during her walks?” In fact, the last thing I needed was more stress in my already stress-filled life!
My dog hates walks and is terrified of the world. I don’t blame her
Yet, over time, I’ve come to appreciate the wisdom of this expression. I, too, am both anxious and high-strung and struggling to find ways to deal with these aspects of my personality that I’m not particularly fond of. Ironically, having a dog who shares these characteristics has helped me do so. When I first began taking Etti on walks, my whole body tensed up and I held on to her leash for dear life. I remained fixated on her to gauge her level of – shall we say “excitement?” – and I would fretfully scan the environment for imminent danger (the evil Corgi across the street, the ornery bunnies who’ve set up camp in our front yard, and the list goes on).
However, little by little, I’ve begun to calm down and relax on our walks. I take deep breaths, drop my shoulders and really focus on the here-and-now. It’s possible that I’m just imagining this but, as a result, Etti is calmer too.
I certainly wouldn’t be the first to argue that dogs mirror our emotions. Case in point, just the other day, Etti seemed particularly anxious and agitated; we had seen multiple dogs, squirrels and scooters. When an unsuspecting pedestrian crossed the street toward us and Etti barked aggressively, I said to her, “You’re so worked up today, Etti, what’s going on?” And then it hit me that throughout our walk I’d been the one who was tense and worried about the day ahead. In the end, maybe Etti was just acting out what I was feeling, serving as a good reminder that I need to pay attention to my moods and how they affect those – both canines and humans – around me!
Learning how to live with our (hated) family cat helps me parent my teens
Another notable thing about Etti is the ease with which she shifts from one mood to the next. I’m not sure of much in this world, but I can fairly confidently assert that Etti doesn’t ruminate about what happened last week, yesterday, or even two minutes ago. Each moment for her is a new “now” and I doubt it’s clouded by much of what came before or what lies ahead. This isn’t to say that she’s not affected by her past. Etti is a rescue so who knows what she had to deal with in her previous life. However, she does not let it drag her down and dictate what comes next, unlike most of us humans (even if sometimes for good reason).
Etti has taught me that every walk is a new walk, just like every day is a new day. In the human world, we’re told to seize the moment and treat each day as if it were our last. Yet, we hear the flip side far less often – to treat each day as if it were our first. I’ve started doing some of that, too. The possibilities are endless and it’s okay if yesterday didn’t go so well because the present moment can serve as a new beginning – even if only to create a small shift in our mood and outlook.
When we were contemplating adopting Etti last fall, we read through her description on the rescue site and got a good laugh at the statement that she would need help “being the best dog she can be.” This is “code” that means the dog you’re getting is a bit rough around the edges. Etti’s getting there though, and she’s trying so hard.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m not the prototypical dog person, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be. Yet, being a dog owner may be exactly what some of us need to be the best humans we can be.
Cristina Atance lives in Ottawa.
