"Pet Stuff sounds" like an easy way to actually make progress.
Sorting thru the contents of the basket that sits on top of Shatzi's crate:
- the blue leash can go – I bought the pink one to match my pink running shirt when I was training for a marathon...back in November...
- the collapsible bowl can go – She will drink from my hands but not the bowl. Go figure!
- the toenail caps worked great for a couple of months. Then she figured out that she could gnaw them off. Last few times I spent hours putting them on, she had them all off in 15 minutes or less.
- claw clippers must go – I traumatized both of us by drawing blood the first time I used them!
- the black mitten will go – guaranteeing that its lost partner shows back up the next day!
From the Laundry Room shelf:
- hummingbird food – Oh yeah! I have a hummingbird feeder!
- all-but-new dog toys – Shatzi does not play with toys. Never has. Based on her response to these two years ago, never will.
- dog treats and knuckle bones – Oh yeah! I have dog treats and knuckle bones!
From the white shelving unit by the back door:
- pet wipes – What was I thinking?!? Did I really think these would keep me from having to actually bathe my Keeshond?
- bark collar batteries – Clearly, I live in terror of running out! (If you've ever heard Shatzi on a barking jag, you know this fear is 100% rational!)
- heart worm medication – Wow. Those three little envelopes represent $100+ worth of pills that I wussed out on making my cats swallow. Quick lecture to self: If I can't/won't do it, I need to (a) decline heart worm medication or (b) commit to taking the cats the vet for the initial dose and 3 weeks later for the follow-up dose.
All done! Well, that wasn't too bad!
A nice, rational little lesson about the heart worm medication...no "baditude" to worry about today!
The bookshelves.
No. I don't have to face the bookshelves. This is "Pet Stuff" day!
The dog books.
The dog books?
Not the dog books.
(More like the dog books shelf...)
I'd dreamed of owning a Keeshond since I read the book Gabriel in 3rd grade.
After visiting a Reading Education Assistance Dogs demonstration in early 2005, I knew that I would finally get my Keeshond and we would train to become a R.E.A.D. dog team! For the first six months, everything was on track. She went to school with me every day, socializing with all the students from K through 8th grade. We attended puppy classes at PetSmart. I bought all the books and joined all the clubs. (As a Sanguine, I love starting and joining!)
But then in June of 2006, we moved to a new school with new rules: No dogs in classrooms. Period. I petitioned the safety committee, giving illustrated information about therapy dogs. But due to previous biting incidents and insurance issues, and my request was declined.
I could not bring Shatzi to work with me. She could not interact with people throughout the day. Our training came to a screeching halt.
That was five years ago.
Replacing Baditude
Okay, so I have a bit of "batitude" toward the school rule. I'd really hoped an exception could be made for a loving on-leash dog wearing a "Therapy Dog In Training" vest.
But I do understand that sometimes the easiest way to minimize costs is to just say "no" to risk. So I'm not bitter. Just disappointed.
Now, what's with the books? The shelf of dog books? After five years, why are they still here?
Is it stubbornness?
No.
Not just stubbornness.
I've loved imagining Shatzi and me spending afternoons in convalescent homes with lonely Alzheimer's patients stroking her silky fur and smiling at long-lost memories.
Never mind that I hate convalescent homes, anything that is even vaguely hospital-ish.
Never mind that if I really wanted to visit Alzheimer's patients I could start by visiting my own mother regularly.
The dog books don't represent stubbornness.
They represent my old nemesis:
fear.
I am terrified of losing my fantasy self: the wonderful teacher who models service to her students by taking them to visit the elderly while accompanied by her beautiful fluffy dog and wearing a swishy floral skirt from Coldwater Creek.
If I give up the books, how will I ever be the wonderful teacher I've tried so hard for so long to become?
With God’s Word
On Day 3, I wrote about the difference between trying so that...and trying because.
Hoarding these books tells me that I really don't trust that God knows what He's doing in my life. I act like I need these books as tools for trying so that I can become the "wonderful teacher" of my fantasies.
(Can't see the image? Read Colossians 2:10 right here!)
I am complete. Whether or not anyone thinks I'm a "wonderful" ______ (teacher, spouse, parent, friend, child, sibling, speaker, writer...)
I need to let go of my tools for trying so that I can become complete.
And I need to Let God's truth–that I am already complete in Him–be my because for trying.
And Gratitude
from my journal:
Today I’m praying…
- that I'll recognize other “stuff” I hang onto as tools for trying so that…
- for presence enjoy the everyday ordinaries with my furry family members.
- to try hard – to play full out in my real life – because I am complete in You.
Today I’m watching for…
- opportunities to laugh and experience joy because of Your creatures.
- ways in which you demonstrate Your unconditional love through the faithfulness and loyalty of my pets.
Today I’m appreciating…
- Shatzi, Tally, Dusty, and Rafiki (especially since they’re all sleeping right now!)
- Your refuge and strength as I struggle against fear to let go of the “stuff” and the fantasies and the idealized version of myself.
- Your patience with me as I keep “discovering” that all I need to do Let You be Your amazing Self in my life.
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