For months, I agonized about adopting a dog. (The phrase “getting a dog” doesn’t capture the experience.)
A dog is not like a human partner, but it is no less a relationship. The day I take home a dog, I enter into a a lifetime pact — ’til death (mine or the dog’s) do we part. As with a human partner, I must make a conscious choice to enter into the relationship.
To date, I have been unable to make that choice. I’ve tried. I looked at puppies, had conversations with breeders, registered with rescue organizations, visited a puppy class, called trainers, collected photos of irresistible puppies (what puppy is not adorable?). I’d look at dogs on the street and ask myself, Could I live with that dog?
If there is peace in decision, it eluded me. One day, I would feel as if I was ready, the next I had a panic attack (very unusual for me). I made a list, as my father long ago taught me, of “the plusses and the minuses.” The list grew longer each time I discussed my plight with a friend. Some said go for it; others said it doesn’t sound like you’re ready.
Only Marge, my 101-year-old friend looked at the problem from the dog’s point of view: “If you’re not ready to put in the time and it turns out to be a mistake, that’s wouldn’t be fair to the puppy.”
Marge was afraid I’d give it back. In my heart I knew there was a more subtle danger: if any part of me was overwhelmed, resentful, or angry, the dog would feel it. That would be worse than giving it back.
I was aware of this from my Baby Whispering work with Tracy Hogg, a dog lover as well as THE original “Baby Whisperer.” Tracy often likened my dog’s behavior to a baby’s. “They’re both sensate creatures, luv. They don’t have language, but they know what you’re saying by the way you handle and talk to them.”
In speaking for the dog, Marge reminded me to walk in my puppy’s paws. It made me realize I had to wait and to trust that I’d know when the dog and the time are right. If I’ve learned anything from a lifetime of writing about and being in relationships, I know that empathy is key. When I truly step into the other’s shoes (or paws), as long as my choice doesn’t sabotage my own needs, I will end up doing what’s best for both of us.