[Before I begin I have to preface this entry with the following. I am not a John Grogan wannabe. I am not about to begin a career in dog blogging. However, my dog is the star of this next story.]
The 4th grade was an iconic year for me. Seriously. I got this free piece of advice from my teacher which was: “Follow your gut.” She was giving a lesson in basic instructions on how to do your best on a test with multiple answers. However, I did not know this advice would be superlative in my adulthood, motherhood, and pethood.
I introduced the idea that my family might be ready for a dog to the Engineer about 18 months before we got our dog. Knowing that he was keen on the idea of a Boxer, I conceded to that notion. It took about two “Everything Boxer” books and one trip to Petsmart for a close encounter for me to realize that a boxer was cute, big, and slobbery. (Those first two characteristics are indicative of my dog, the last was a deal breaker).
The Engineer saw my hesitation as a way to halt the dog idea. What he wasn’t aware of is that I had already thought a boxer was not the dog for us. My idea of the perfect dog is and always will be… a Labrador Retriever. No offense boxer owners. There’s just something about them I find irresistible and the AKC agrees with me. Well just look at her:
So you already know we ended up with a yellow lab pup. That whole story has been told. What you don’t know is how extensively and relentlessly I researched the breed. I knew more about what to expect when expecting a Lab than what I did with any of my children’s impending arrivals! I combed through book after book after book. I heard the nightmare stories about labs who ate drywall, diamond earrings, and stole dinner right off the table! Nothing deterred my mission. I had become the expert (so to speak) of the Labrador. That made me the “ideal lab parent”… right???
I am considered by today’s standard to be a “strict parent.” I believe in rules, respect, and the philosophy that I am the mom and I am the boss. I am no different with my dog. If I am unable to keep an eye on her or if someone is not interacting with her she is in her kennel. Otherwise she will do naughty things. The Engineer has a split parenting personality. His kid-parenting beliefs are basically the same as mine; his pet-parenting standards are not.
I was away from home and visiting family. Nala stayed behind on this trip. I knew that the Engineer would allow her to do things that I NEVER allow such as: chewing on sticks in the house, sitting on the furniture, and roaming freely throughout the home. The first two of those things BOTHER me, the last CONCERNS AND WORRIES me (for both my dog and my stuff).
I got back from my trip and my 6 month old; 50 pound baby was not acting “right.” Lethargy (in labs particularly), is a red flag, and the hacking and gagging sound she was making was even more alarming. Then she puked. I took her to the vet.
The vet’s office is an interesting place. It’s kind of like taking kids to the public playground. And while I know that no parent will admit to doing this, I will for the sake of my story. Everyone looks at everyone’s dog and immediately there is a stigma. You have the “kids” who are low risk that lay around and do nothing (bulldogs), the persistent ones who ask a million questions all in a row (jack russells), the bullies (pit bulls), and the precarious. Generally, my dog’s breed is put into that last category, and I am here to say it fits.
Here’s where my 4th grade lesson comes in…. my gut told me that my mischievous dog ate something she shouldn’t have. The vet told me she had an upper respiratory problem that she needed some antibiotics, very pricey prescription dog food, and to call the next day. I was assured that there was “no way this is foreign object or obstruction.” $150 later, I was on my way home with the dog.
The next day, Nala puked, and puked, and I went back to the vet. This time I had a different doctor, and he agreed that my concern about her having eaten something was “unlikely.” What was more likely was that my dog had what is commonly known as “kennel cough.” With another prescription for another antibiotic and now an anti-vomiting medication I walked out to pay another $150 bill. The receptionist then freaked out nearly jumping over the counter saying “You need to get back into a room. Your dog is highly contagious if she has kennel cough.” He may as well have said that Nala had the black plague because the other pet owners went into shock and disgust as Nala and I headed back into a room with our tails between our legs.
She really was no better the next day. Days later the Engineer took her out for a mini-walk. It was then that the mystery would be solved. My dog threw up again. This time something came out. Guess what it was? A pair of my underwear.
The next day, the Engineer informed me that another pair of underwear came out of my dog. And the third pair, well, I had that pleasure.
While you’re laughing hysterically let me point something ironic out to you. I wear whatever Wal-mart sells. I’m not a high-end-for-the-rear-end minded type of consumer. These 3 pair of underwear (in my mind), had cost me $300 and ricked my dignity.
This anecdote about my dog is silly I know. But believe it or not I have found a way to weave some theology in this tale.
My pursuit to become whatever it is that God is calling me to has not come without some major, minor, and some secretive criticism, but I know that I know that I am obeying what the Father is telling me to do. I have heard it all when it comes to my academic pursuits from “You’re not cut out to be” and “What kind of major is that?” and the famous “You’ll never make any money,” etc., etc.
Those thoughts are sometimes well intentioned people who care about me and want me to consider other options because they worry about me. But their “options” are just as useless to me as the antibiotic was for my underwear eating canine. I have tried them and/or pursued them. Those quests have left my soul as dry as the Sahara and my self-esteem so low that an ant couldn’t crawl under it.
Here’s my bottom line (pun intended). The vet shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss my theory about my dog. On the same note, neither I nor anyone else has the right to dismiss the plans of God just because they are “unlikely” or because the follower is an underdog.
“As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. 11 Whoever speaks, is to do so as one who is speaking the utterances of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” 2 Peter 4:10-11
