I had an interesting conversation recently with a gal whose dog placed last in his class four days running. She asked for an honest evaluation of the dog, which I provided. And then she said, “Poor guy.” As if somehow the yellow or white ribbon was going to give him a complex. This isn’t a singular phenomena. Anthropomorphism |ˌanTHrəpəˈmôrˌfizəm|. noun. The attribution of human characteristics or behavior to a god, animal or object. Ok, just to be clear. These are not children. They are not furry people. They are dogs. They don’t think being last is shameful or humiliating. They aren’t traumatized, as some of us were as children, by being picked last for the dodgeball team. The dogs think they’re having a blast, hanging out with their people, getting lots of treats and pats, and a little bit of exercise. They really, truly do not care about the color of their ribbon. A particularly in-tune or empathetic dog will care that his person is sad. But, if the person is happy with their white ribbon, so is the dog. The dog in question, by the bye, is a happy-go-lucky, goofy puppy who is simply too immature to be competitive at a specialty weekend. He had great fun. At one point, on the drive to the show, we were stopped at a hotel for the night. While exercising this exuberant, 100 pound Newfoundland, a couple men of potentially questionable character strolled by. I would normally give a pretty wide berth to these kids. Not this guy. He literally dragged me over to them and flung himself up on hind legs to give them a full body hug! “Oh, Lord save me,” I’m thinking, “we’re all going to die,” as I tried to reel in a mass of fur and slobber. Nope, turns out these guys thought the dog was adorable and wanted to have their pictures taken with him. You’ve all see those trite little sayings that encourage us to live more like our dogs. In most cases, this is brilliant advice. Our dogs don’t, and shouldn’t, think like us. We, on the other hand, should aspire to be more like them! Be loyal. See everyone with fresh eyes. Forgive and forget. Live with abandon. Get lots of exercise. Take naps. I am largely a failure as a dog, although I do like my naps… I’d had sort of a rough day when I had that chat with the client. I was whining to my compatriots about which dog coulda, shoulda, woulda. I hadn’t achieved the success I wanted for my clients or believed the dogs deserved. One of those little cartoon lightbulbs suddenly appeared over my head. “Well, you darling so and so,” said I to me, “perhaps you should follow your own advice!” And, so I did. As soon as I loosened up and quit fussing about my win:loss ratio, relaxed, laughed and had more joy, everything flowed again. Not all the dogs won, but enough of them to whap me upside the head with a reminder to follow the good advice I’m so willing to share with you all. Relax! It’s not world peace. Your dog is having fun. Are you? Authored by Laura Reeves, PHA
Posted on: Fri, 09 Jan 2015 03:58:36 +0000
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