33. Now You've Crossed the Line, Kid: Give Others a Second Chance, but Not More
When I think back to the early days of having Zoey in our house, I sometimes can’t help but feel guilty about how we handled the integration of a new pup into Chaser’s life. (Which might be a perfect opportunity to revisit Week 20, “Embrace failure as part of learning, of course).
At the time, we did everything we’d been told to do, or everything we read about doing. We vetted the pups based on breed and then, in person, based on personality. The HH held her aloft in his palm to see if she’d try to squigglle free. We tossed a ball of crunched-up newspaper to see if she’d run after it.
We also tested Zoey to ensure she was the most submissive in the bunch (which, given that “the bunch” were basically a group of wild hyenas chewing their way through that basement playroom, may not have been the best test). We brought Chaser with us so we could see how the two interacted.
Upon first meeting, the two dogs seemed just fine together. Of course, Chaser was mildly interested in all the pups simply out of curiosity, but when we carried Zoey over and had them sniff each other, both parties seemed happy to meet. Chaser nudged the pup with her nose, sniffed and even attempted a little pawing motion on Zoey’s back. All good.
During the car ride home, we reassured Chaser that she was still the top dog. Lots of pats, soothing words and treats. Still good.
By the third day, Chaser was adapting to the pup better than I was (here was a fur baby the likes of which I’d never encountered before–all barks, bites and brashness). I decided to let them play in the backyard.
It all started out so well. . . until those paws came crashing down.
At first, all seemed well. Chaser play-bowed, she barked and wagged her tail. Zoey, for her part, was ecstatic to have another playmate after losing her eight siblings. She ran like a wombat around the yard, leaping and jumping in an attempt to entice Chaser further.
One thing we learned quickly about Zoey, however, is that she uses her front paws the way humans use our arms. I’ve never seen a dog with paws outstretched so often, nails on full display. Which, as we learned that very morning, is not always a good thing.
After romping around the yard a few times, Chaser moved in for more play–and, at that precise moment, Zoey leapt up to engage her, paws out in front. As she returned to earth, her nails grazed Chaser’s nose.
It was heart-wrenching to watch–and hear. Chaser squealed in pain, retracted her muzzle and then scooted to the opposite corner of the yard. She whined and pawed at her nose. She glared at Zoey as if to say, “Et tu BRUTE!” and refused to respond in any way as Zoey barked, furiously wagged her tail, spun in circles and did virtually everything else she could think of to entice her sister back into play.
But it was all in vain. That day, at least, Chaser was injured, both physically and emotionally, and simply retreated.
It took three full days (which, as you know, equals 21 days in dog years) before Chaser was willing to give it another go. This time, Chaser was a bit more tentative, but still willing to interact. As with so many things where dogs are concerned, her tail gave her away: positioned low toward the ground, only the tip swished gently, a conditional welcome.
Zoey seized the opportunity. Before I knew it, they were romping once again, Chaser prancing and dipping her nose against her sister’s rear, Zoey in ecstasy that she had recovered her playmate. I grabbed my phone and began to record. Such a lovely scene for posterity!
And then–it happened.
Again.
Zoey raised her paws, and they came crashing down–across Chaser’s nose.
Chaser’s sweet, soft, wet, tender nose.
Again!
This time, there was no going back. Scratch me once, shame on you. . . etcetera.
I have to be honest. Had it been been me, I’m not sure I would have forgiven her. Oh, wait–it kind of was me, given that Zoey bit both me and the HH (twice each), and she’s still here. Then again, we did consider handing her over to Animal Services on countless occasions.
There were frantic phone calls to the HH involving deep, hacking sobs and entreaties to “Please come home and help me with this monster!” There were urgent texts to our then-trainer asking, “What am I doing wrong?” accompanied by videos of Zoey growling, snapping and pulling at the leash. There were somber, hushed conversations after dinner about “Maybe she’s just not the right dog for us. . . “.
And then . . . time passed. We found an incredible trainer. Zoey matured . . . and we all began to like each other.
Now, imagine what might have happened if we hadn’t given her another chance?
I think that for Chaser, the rule is clear: I’ll give you a second chance. I’ll assume you have the best intentions.
But if you cross me again, well, fuggedaboudit. There will be no third chances.**
In other words, this Girl knows how to set some healthy boundaries.
So this week, I’m going to keep Chaser’s approach in mind. It might be a colleague who insults me without realizing it. It might be a friend who ghosts me right as I’m driving to meet them for Sunday brunch. It might be a business buddy who ignores my friendly email. Or it might be the HH who forgot my birthday even though it was a big one (yep, our first birthday together. He had no idea he was supposed to give a present. It never happened again).
As always, I hope I don’t encounter anyone who falls into the category of “hurts me” in any way. But if something does happen along those lines, I’ll practice Chaser’s “get a free pass after the first scratch” philosophy.
If nothing along those lines does occur in the coming week, well, then you’ll be treated to the tale of “How the HH Forgot Christmas Ricki’s Birthday.”
Are you with me? Are you willing to grace others with your newfound “second-chances-for-all” approach? Let me know.
** I think it’s important to note that allowing someone a second (or even third) chance does not contradict our earlier challenge to “Forgive everyone everything.”
While forgiveness can be granted any time (even decades after the fact) and is infinite, dispensing second chances exists in the present moment. In other words, you can forgive, provide second chances, and still decide that you won’t accept the same action in the future.
Follow-up to last week’s challenge: Be in the Moment.
As someone who’s spent most of her adult life in therapy, someone who’s kept a journal since age 7 and someone who spends a lot of time writing, I’m naturally someone who also remembers, reflects and spends an inordinate amount of time in the past–not exactly what one would dub “being in the moment.”
So this week’s challenge was, truly, a challenge for me.
It began well enough, as I vowed to practice intention-setting upon waking. To set your daily intentions, you need to be there, in the moment, then determine how you want the rest of the day to go. It’s a lovely idea, and one that does lasso your thoughts to the present.
In between stressing about the state of the world, impending financial collapse and a worldwide social credit system, I somehow did manage to find time to be in the moment.
No surprise–it was my dog who brought me there. Playing with Zoey, one can’t help but just be present and enjoy the time together. Thoughts of the rest of the world fade away as you focus on throwing that Chuck-It, watching her glee as she races down the stairs to fetch it, eyes glinting, tongue lolling between pants of pure joy as she hands it over to you, knowing she’ll receive a treat in exchange.
In the end, I’d say I did a middling job “being in the moment.” I spent too much time worrying about the future and reliving the past. However, those few moments when I did manage to be completely there were lovely, and worth repeating. More moments to come.
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