You know that bumper sticker that says “Dog is My Co-Pilot”? I don’t laugh when I see that, because, for me, it’s totally true. We have two dogs and we also foster dogs for Pet Haven, a Twin Cities rescue organization. One of our foster dogs, Mikey, became our forever dog and because of what I learned from him, I will be a far better spiritual director than I might have been otherwise.
When he came to us, Mikey was constantly anxious and didn’t know when he was being a good boy or when he was doing something wrong. For him, there was always a chance that he was doing something wrong and he didn’t know what he needed to do to change it. He is a sensitive dog and was frightened by all kinds of noises: the washing machine on spin cycle, the furnace going on, a plane going over the house. Anytime he heard something that upset him, he would go in the bathroom and shake uncontrollably. I think he left his body at those times as well, because when you looked in his eyes, there was nobody in there. He pushed the bathroom door shut, but then panicked because he was closed in. At night, we had to put him in his kennel because if he was left out, he would spend the night closing doors, then scratching incessantly on them.
The wider world made him nervous, as well. We’d take Mikey outside to do his business but if he heard a truck in the neighborhood, or a plane flew overhead, he would come running back in the house, running low to the ground as if he were scared of being hit. When we put him in the car, he shook during the whole ride. And at meet-and-greet events, he could only stay with the people and dogs for a little while. We figured out that if we took him to the back of the store, he could hide in one of the doghouses and get a little relief.
It broke my heart to see him so scared, and to realize that he had no coping skills or sense of safety. I wanted to give him the love and security he needed, and consulted with animal healers and behaviorists to get ideas and advice for how to help Mikey. Nothing much worked and I felt like a failure when his behavior continued for weeks with no change. We took him to a class for shy dogs and they told us he couldn’t come back because he made the other dogs too nervous. He got into a couple of serious fights with our dog, Geordie, in which both dogs received severe bite wounds and we were worried we were going to have to give up.
At some point, I wondered if Mikey felt pressured by our desire for his healing. We wanted him to be a happy dog who could hang out with the family and enjoy himself as most dogs do. With all the things we were trying to do to help him, I began to wonder if our message to him was that he wasn’t acceptable as he was and that he needed to be change in order to be considered a good dog. I wondered what it would be like if we accepted Mikey as he was and didn’t count on any changes. At the time, I attended a workshop at Sacred Ground on heart meditation, and learned to quiet my breath and slow my heartbeat. I also learned that people (and dogs, I thought!) could be influenced by someone else’s calm and steady heartbeat. After that, when Mikey was in one of his panics, I just sat near him and did heart meditation. I closed my eyes and didn’t look at Mikey, because I didn’t want my own hopes for him to get in the way. It seemed like sometimes he was able to quiet, but I tried not to notice or count on that. I didn’t want to be focused on results in any way.
During that time, I was also taking the Ignatian Exercises at Sacred Ground. At one point, an image came to me. God and I are sitting on a beautiful hillside on a warm, sunny day – the kind of day you dream of in February. God is sitting next to me in a lawn chair, legs stretched out, arms resting on the arms of the chair. I’m also comfortably ensconced in my chair. There’s no place we need to go, nothing we need to do. It’s enough to sit and enjoy the beauty and peace of the day. I don’t have to prove anything, earn anything, justify anything, explain anything. I felt a molecular change come over me as I felt this image move through me – that God loves me, in each and every moment. It was like I started to breathe again.
I only came to that image when I understood that I could take anything to God. Anything. My anger, frustration, complaining and whining, my judgments, blame and finger-pointing, my know-it-allness, my resistance and stuckness, my arrogance and bullheadedness. All of it. I didn’t have to clean myself up and put on my perfectly ironed prettiest ruffly dress in order to get an audience. This image is one of grace and blasts away my beliefs about having to earn God’s love by good behavior.
This learning intertwined with my relationship with Mikey. It helped me understand what true presence and love is. Mikey could stay in the bathroom if that helped him. He could sleep in his kennel, and he didn’t have to share his toys and bones if he didn’t want to. We adjusted the rhythms of our household to accommodate him. It wasn’t a big deal – we just accepted that we never went to the bathroom alone! We took measures so that his actions weren’t destructive to the house. Mikey and Geordie ate in their kennels and all bones and toys were picked up unless the dogs were separated by the baby gate. We checked on Mikey when he was shaking, but we accepted his behavior as natural for him. Our sense of what was “ordinary” adapted to these new circumstances. I tried to let go of all the voices in me that wanted to fix Mikey – that wanted to make him better and that wanted him to be a “normal” dog.
Sitting with him and letting go of any hopes I had on Mikey’s behalf was a good muscle to strengthen. Truthfully, I did hope for improvement, that some magic would be worked. But I imagined each of those kinds of thoughts floating away on the string of a balloon. I tried to just focus on being the possibility of love for Mikey. He could accept it or not but I would be present for him no matter what happened and there was nothing he could do that would make me give up on him.
Little by little, Mikey has begun to find some peace and happiness in the world. He hangs out with the family more and only sometimes finds it necessary goes in the bathroom. And if he does get scared, he comes and asks for company to comfort him in the bathroom. Even when he gets scared, he stays in his body. We learned that Mikey knows he’s a good boy when he gets treats so he gets lots of treats because he is a very good boy. He goes to the dog park with our other dogs and tells us when he’s had enough, so we can put him in the car. One great gift of Mikey is his ears. At first, his ears were always pinned on the back of his head. As time went on, we learned what Mikey loved because when something pleases him, his ears come up and his eyes twinkle. That’s how we learned to use pastrami when we needed to clip his nails or give him medicine! I have watched him unfold and bloom as he figures out for himself what love and safety feels like and as we let him teach us Mikey’s Way.
My journey with Mikey continues as I learn to go at his speed instead of my own. He is still a sensitive dog who gets scared sometimes. But we’re a team now and he knows he can trust us to stand by him. His journey is as unique as anyone else’s – human or animal – and through my time with him, I’ve been able to learn and practice the profound gift of simply being with someone in acceptance and love. I’m deeply grateful for his bravery, willingness, and patience as he teaches me. Sometimes the face of Jesus in the world has whiskers and wet nose.
sacredgroundspirit
Ever since I was a child, I have liked to swim. I loved being outdoors in the fresh air, and delighting in the colors of the bright blue sky and the deep green of the pine trees. The water always invited lots of play—running, splashing, jumping, diving. I felt fully alive as a child.
