A Dog's Smile

Ever since welcoming my Sheltie Mac into my family life, I've developed a new skill.  I now have the ability to truly see a genuine dog's smile.  They are not very different from a human smile.  Eye brows are relaxed; eyes are bright and alert; the corners of the open mouth are turned up and the teeth are showing.  The only differences are that their unusually long or wide tongue is hanging out; their tails are wagging with great energy; and sometimes, they are panting.

I took my dog's smile for granted.

Every time I came home after dropping off the kids at school or running a day of errands, Mac smiled.  He was excited because he would soon have a playmate or at least a set of feet to lay next to while I typed on my laptop.  There was his trademark youthful, joyful, handsome pup face.  Like people, Mac sometimes demonstrated a lower energy smile with a closed mouth; that content look he got with his eyes half-closed while relaxing at his favorite spot on the sunny deck.  If you are a dog owner, I'm sure you've also honed this recognition skill.  It's the true barometer of a happy home.

If the dog is happy, well then it means he's getting a whole lot of love, playtime and attention.  Watch your dog or see if your friends who have dogs agree.  When the dog gets no love, everyone's too busy, too stressed out or too self-absorbed to realize the importance of just being. 

Once the kids are off to school, my daily goal is to walk one mile with Mac.  It's a great opportunity for me to brainstorm and process story ideas in my mind.  Well, for the past week, I've been extremely productive but not with my writing.  I've been donating 95% of my time to a charitable event I am co-chairing.  So many details and people are involved in the planning and preparations for this event.  It has depleted not only my time at home with the family; poor Mac has been on the peripheral of my radar.  Our walks have been abbreviated and his playtime has become less and less predictable.

So lately Mac has passive-aggressively been sending me signals.  His favorite treats have been half-eaten and purposely left in my path in the foyer.  He's been responding with nonchalance when I call for him.  I've had to search each room; he hasn't broken into a gallop when I sing-song his name.  If the house phone or blackberry acts up during our round of tug-of-war, he hasn't insisted that I pay him any mind.  He has simply dropped his end of the rope and curled up in another part of the house to mope.

Today I announced excitedly to Mac that we were going to do our full mile walk.  He was ready.  Then, I suddenly remembered there were two critical e-mail messages I needed to send, right that minute, despite holding the leash in one hand, wearing the house key lanyard around my neck and my right pocket filled with treats and plastic bags.  There she goes again, he must have thought, possessed by that THING!  When we finally reached the street, he led me to believe that he was a willing participant of our walk.

And then he communicated silently yet very clearly.  He sat.  I gave him my usual gentle command.

"Come on, Mac.  Let's go walky walk."

Nothing.

"Let's look for cars!"

Still no movement.

"Come on, don't you want to go sniff some mailboxes?"  He turned his head away with his nose in the air.  I gently tugged his collar with the leash and he defiantly pulled back his head.  I didn't recognize this behavior.  He was usually so agreeable.

"What's wrong, Mac?  You LOVE to walk!"

Silence.  He was earning my full attention.  He quietly basked in his subtle protest.  I approached him slowly and crouched down next to him, looking deeply into his eyes.

"I get it," I whispered into his left ear as I stroked his forehead and back.  "I've been a bad owner.  You're right."

His nose turned away once more.

"I'm really sorry."

This time he looked straight ahead at our original destination, lifted his back end and led me on our way.

In Praise of Small Victories

On this first Monday of a new month, I forgive myself for failing to address many of my intentions.  I started this blog one month ago with the goal of writing a few times per week at some point and this is only my second post.  "So what?" I say to the critic on my shoulder.  "This doesn't mean I didn't write or that I'm less committed."  In fact, I made many journal entries but I saved them in my Daily Blog folder, because I felt they needed more polish.  I started writing a chapter which I have yet to finish.  There's a growing pile of non-critical papers which I hesitate to trash on my kitchen desk.  The kids' things have once again creeped into the crevices of each room in the house.  The now thawed garden is in need of Spring clean up; I started raking and deadheading but left piles of leaves and dried straw that need to be whisked to the far end of the backyard.  The community volunteer work is in full swing but there is still so much to be done.  Like a drum roll, a number of incomplete tasks await my final blast of energy so I can check them off my to do list.

I didn't follow through for the usual reasons; mainly, adult onset ADHD.  I have a tendency to overcommit, which challenges me to constantly re-prioritize.  I realize now after years of struggle that constant juggling leads to firefighting, which I am capable of, but this is not my essence.  My gift to others is my ability to maintain control, to share my energy, and how can I do that if I am constantly depleted?

No, I didn't follow through for the usual reasons; it was because my very ill husband and family desperately needed my focused energy these past two weeks.  Therefore, I put many, less crucial activities on hold.

When my husband landed in the hospital for 8 days, a huge storm of conflict flabbergasted my family.  We needed to situate ourselves in the eye of that storm with him, surround him with our protective tranquility and just let everything else naturally spin around us.  I was okay with this.  In the past I worried about every little thing.  But today it is very clear to me where my attention needs to be.

During those 8 days, I made it my daily goal to keep my chin up and my spirit strong so that my husband and my kids might draw what light they needed from me to get through the day.  I also reached out to family, friends and our community, to harness positive thoughts and prayers that they might be able to radiate toward us.  And boy did they generously do so.  I felt the warmth and the strength.  I let it fill me.

It took 6 days for him to eek out one smile (a Will Ferrell movie).  I missed his confidence, wit and charm.  All that faded into the gloom of his debilitating chronic GI disease.  The kids missed his anchor of strength in the house.  They craved an hour of his awareness; even for just 30 minutes they wanted to infuse him with their lightness of being.

As he heals in the comfort of our home, the kids and I are relieved to be able to help him rebuild his fortress of hope.  We continue to surround him with our love and attention.  We ease back into our familial rhythms.  

This morning my husband gave me a hug.  I was the receiver!  I revel in this small victory :)

Embracing What Matters

Five plus years ago, a very good acupuncturist asked me to fill out a very unique batch of patient application forms.  I had found her practice because I was looking for acupressure massage services close to my home.  I had persistent pain in the back of my neck and upper back and I had no reason to believe that I was seriously ill.  I simply wanted an alternative and drug-free means to address the pain.  I seemed to also be under frequent virus attacks at the time.

I was used to those check-off boxes that listed all sorts of past ailments and symptoms in my health history.  But instead, I was asked to answer revealing questions in narrative form, like I was taking a personality test!  The first box asked me to list the five things I would like to do before I die.  Before I DIE!  Can you imagine bringing up that three letter word to someone obviously interested in maintaining health and wellness?  On the list, I wrote things like author and publish my own books someday and see my grandchildren grow up.  I found out that I was a wood element, which meant that I had a constant need to grow and that I had a tendency to be rigid like wood.  I tended to take safety in roots and shy away from risk.

To make a long story fit into this concise blog format, let me tell you what I finally realized after two years of interviews and needle sessions with my acupuncturist.  The secret to good health was my happiness.  This meant ensuring the alignment of my mind, body and spirit.  Only until I closed the door on a successful yet unfulfilling career in marketing and corporate communications and opened the door to designing a very satisfying "day job" that allowed me to be flexible enough to focus on raising my children, did I have a chance at being happy and healthy.  I honestly don't mind all those after-school minivan shuttles; those precious moments during which I could hear how my son and daughter's day went.  I love that each day now I am one step closer to finishing a manuscript.  I have faith that I'll get paid again someday when the product is done.  It's just that I'm still in the creative production mode.  And I love that I have time to volunteer in the community.

It's been a long, anxiety-ridden road to today.  But I appreciate this crystal clear perspective that I now have and I am grateful for the many life experiences I have gained along the way.  We all have the power to be happy as long as we are willing to take a hard look at how we spend our days and have the courage to make changes.