I love animals, especially dogs.  My favorite part of the day is greeting time.   Regardless of all other circumstances, they are always happy and excited to see me, it is impossible not to share in their joy.  Every morning I look forward to

Deacon and Wynefred

waking them up and opening the door for the morning relief.   So much so that I fix my coffee first and get set to go outside with them to watch them excitedly, romp around the yard.  Yesterday things were going great on the usual romp, until, they saw something in the woods.   I questioned who would appear, a Bad dog or Good dog.

When the door flies open in the morn it is always entertaining to watch Deacon and Wyni fight to see who makes it out the door first.  They both sprint as fast as possible and head to the huge maple where daily reside the squirrels stealing seeds from the bird feeder.   Like clockwork, the squirrels hear the door click and take off running.  The kids chase them to the trunk of the maple and 100% of the time, the squirrels make their way up the tree easily escaping.  I chuckle the same way each time with a no-harm no-foul response.

But on this day, there was an extra treat.   Deer!   Who can resist a deer chase? The kids sprinted off into the woods as I yelled NOOOooo!!!.  Wyni instinctively slammed on the brakes and looked at me with an uh-oh expression.  But not Deacon.  Using the excuse of being unable to stop his 140 pounds at once or not hearing, due to the black fur covering his ears I guess, he kept on sprinting.  Wyni decided, if he is allowed to go, so am I.  She turned her head back around and resumed the chase to catch her partner in crime.

I watched helplessly as the two BAD dogs ran after the deer.  A few minutes later My mood changed from panic to a short feeling of awe as the deer backtracked and were no less than 10 feet away from my standing position on the driveway.   All eight of them ran by one at a time looking at me cautiously as their choice of running from two crazy dogs versus seeing one old guy holding a coffee mug seemed like the right one.   I stopped to enjoy the beauty of the white tails pass before my eyes. (Yes, I am a tree hugger, no thoughts of wishing I had a shot-gun to fill the freezer with venison crossed my mind for a second)

After stopping and enjoying nature for a few minutes, I resumed the worry and called for the bad dogs to return.   Seeing no response, I headed into the woods in hopes of intercepting them before they discovered the deer had backtracked and were far-gone for them to be chased.    I walked for several minutes calmly calling out their names awaiting their return.

As I moved further into the woods, I slashed into a thorn-bush, which snagged my arm.  My temperament was shifting quickly as I carefully pulled the thorns, one rip at a time, out of my bleeding skin.   The calm calling out of the names ‘Deacon, Wyni’ was increasing in volume.  I worried of waking the neighbors.    As a few minutes passed, I worried of them going too far and finding the roadway with rush hour traffic.  I called their names even louder.   I worried further about the crazy neighbor who lived deeper in the woods that he would mistake deacon for a bear and wyni as a wolf and blast them with his double barrel.  I shouted louder with a bit more emphasis.

The dogs were gone.  I opted to turn around and head back to the house.  My coffee mug was empty and needed a refill.  Anxiety was mounting and quickly turning to anger (doesn’t it for everyone, or is that an exclusive for this Average Joe?) as I picked up the pace thinking I would need to grab the car and go search for them.   I continued shouting their names as I headed back.   I reached the front porch and still no bad dogs had returned.  I stepped in to grab a coffee refill and the car keys.  I fretted how two stupid dogs, that never listen, ruined a perfect morning. And meanwhile my hot java had become ice cold.

I headed back out, pulled together my mind, and decided to walk a ways again.   I shouted Wyni’s name, as she is mostly the good dog.    From a distance, I saw her running back home.   She looked and saw me.  I could see her catch a glimpse of me and her tail movement switched from boy-are-we-in-trouble-worry-mode to excitement.   She started wagging the tail and picked up speed to come to her master.   I yelled a pleasant ‘Wynnnnieee’, she picked up the pace seeing that I was happy, the happy relief you get when you know all is ok.

Then the reality of the matter returned to my mind as I thought about the dogs not listening to me.  I thought about the scratch on my arm and what an idiot the neighbors probably were thinking about me.  Only two days ago, I was the numskull bad horse owner that had allowed my bad horses to sneak out the open fence (again!) and roam through the neighborhood.   The same horses that snuck into the garage and turned over a whole bucket of bird seed the day before.

Whiskey and spilled seeds

I yelled out, ‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, baaaad dog?’  Suddenly Wyni’s excitement to see me turned to an uh-oh, I am in trouble look.  Her tail went between the legs, shoulders slumped, and the pace to return slowed dramatically.    I stood with my hands on hips and waited for her to reach my feet.    She stopped twenty feet away with her head down.  I said, ‘come over here’.  She slowly walked over in a slumping fashion and penitently came to my feet and rolled over on her back.

My heart changed as I saw how she was truly sorry.  She licked me profusely asking for forgiveness.  I could tell she wanted to say, ‘if it wasn’t for Deacon I wouldn’t have run’.  I gave her a big hug and said ‘ok, you’re not a bad dog’. (I know my wife is puking as she reads this, princess Wynifred has a special place in my heart, I admit it.  It has much to do with her near death as a puppy)  Her countenance changed and she was back to the good dog, a little hesitant, but all seemed normal again.

But where the heck was Deacon?  I shouted out for Deacon to ‘come home’.  I knew he could not be too far away as he always took his time coming back a few minutes later than she does.   At a distance, he saw me and seemed to know instinctively he was in trouble.   Instead of turning up the driveway as Wyni did, he decided to take the outer route to get back to the porch.  It was as if he hoped if he took the long way I might forget about what happened.  I yelled, ‘you had better get back here, now!’  No chance, he seemed to say, and continued to trot with his huge furry paws in the other direction.

I looked down to see that Wyni had changed from happy back to cowering again.   I tried to convince her I was not mad at her.   But this time she knew I was too far gone to be won over with a wag and lick on the cheek.

I rewound in my mind the ‘Dog Whisperer’ episodes and dog psychology books.  They state a dog does not know the difference between wrong and right, but responds to what we have trained them to do.  Moreover it is difficult to train them on what NOT to do, thus barriers, fences and electric fences come in to play.   It would be of no benefit to beat the dogs for their misdeeds, or to yell, explain their wrong-ness, toss them in a kennel, withhold food, or offer any form of punishment.

When I reached the portico Deacon was sitting by the door, oblivious to having done anything wrong.   As I had enough time to calm down he showed no signs of remorse whatsoever. Wyni had quickly forgotten that she had been scolded and that I was totally ticked off at Deacon, all was restored in the master-to-dog relationship.  It was especially renewed when I broke out the bag of dog food for feeding time a minute later (I had a conference call due in minutes and had to put behind the runaway incident).

I had to get philosophical over the matter as I observed – all is well with the dog-to-person relationship provided the dog leader is in control of himself or herself.  Whether they have done exactly what we want them to do or the exact opposite, a dog will react based on how we respond to them.  If I am happy and excited they are happy and excited, if I am calm and at peace, they are calm and secure.  Likewise, if I am upset they respond in an upset manner, sometimes running away in fear or cowering in defeated submission.

We people are much more complex in how we respond and feel around one another.     We long for the approval of family, friends, work-place ‘masters’, and how society decides we should be.  When things are seemingly going well and everyone around is pleased we are happy and pleased and easy to get along with.  When we are wronged or have done wrong, we respond like a bad dog, either barking or biting back or cowering in fear of punishment.   Even when we have done the seemingly right thing, we often respond based on whether they were pleased or displeased with our activity or actions.

We long to hear the words good boy or good girl, and cringe at the mere mention of anything bad.   Our insecurities and anxieties cause us to look at ourselves based on how others view us.   If merely looking at a reflection based on what others think or we perceive they think, it is easy to feel like a cowering dog, sometimes feeling confused,  even if we have done the right things.

Maybe it would be easier if we were dogs and there were only two phrases to deal with; simply Bad dog, Good dog.

There has to be a better way to see ourselves, years of looking for my own identity has led me to a new perspective, perhaps you dare to seek another view, but only if you enter the Portico..

If this is your first time visiting Average Joe’s Portico, every post is written in two parts. You have just read the portion challenging the mind, body, and soul.  In The Portico I seek to tap into your spiritual side, but only IF YOU DARE.  Tap the Red Line Below. to hear the Spiritual side of the story.  (For more info – read the ‘Do You Dare’ Tab)