Week Four: Take Care of Those You Love
My husband is fond of reminding me that Australian cattle dogs (of which Zoey is half) are often nicknamed “cuddle dogs” because of their propensity to glom on to their humans. I can attest that this is true (and also entirely endearing).
At the same time, our Ms. Zoey is also a real pack animal. She considers Chaser her sister, despite the fact they hail from different litters (not to mention different breeds), and there’s a 12-year age gap between them (Chaser is definitely a nonagenarian in dog years).
Like any good sibling, Zoey feels it’s her responsibility to care for her elderly sister.
I first noticed this peculiar trait one day after I’d let the girls out for their morning ablutions. As usual, Zoey operates at about triple speed compared to Chaser, so she’s always first back inside (also because the sooner she gets back in the house, the sooner she gets her breakfast). Zoey then observes intently as I dish out the food, drool tendrils already forming on her jowls.
But one day as I prepped their puree of raw sweet potato and apple (an accompaniment to their raw ground turkey, what we call, simply, “mush” around here), I was startled by Zoey’s single, piercing bark. An octave higher than her typical woof when she spies another dog on the street, it also lacked the frenzied staccato she uses to sound the “Bunny!” alarm or the foghorn undertones of her “You’re-taking-too-long-to-feed-me” howls.
No, this was clearly a message, trumpeting alert.
I tried to imagine what she could want. I’d already acclimated to the incessant barking and yelping while I prepped the food (clearly, not quickly enough). But this was different. She was obviously trying to communicate. . . something.
“Okay, just wait, and I’ll give you your breakfast,” I offered. A few seconds later, the same signal: shrill, clipped, high-pitched.
“Do you want some water?” Blank stare.
“Do you need to do your business?” Panting.
At this, however, I glanced over to the back door to reinforce the offer. And there through the glass, I spied Chaser, calmly waiting to be let back in.
Could it be. . . ? Naw. That’s crazy talk. No way was Zoey trying to tell me that Chaser was at the door–?!
I let Chaser in and returned to prepping their breakfast. No more barking. The day proceeded as usual.
But then. . . the following morning, it happened again. And again a couple days after that. And every time Zoey emitted that sharp, shrill bark, there was Chaser, patiently waiting to be let in.
Over time, I just accepted it was Zoey’s way of watching out for her sister. Her way of saying, “Hey! She’s stuck out there and wants to come back in! Do your duty, human!”
And that’s how–just like that–Zoey appointed herself Chaser’s guardian.
This watchfulness has spread to other situations, too. When Chaser first began to stumble while attempting to climb the stairs, Zoey would rush from wherever she was and plant herself firmly behind the older dog, preventing Chaser from falling too far. (After this happened a couple of times, the hubs and I began to walk behind her, ensuring she wouldn’t tumble. But Zoey still plants herself behind me, just to be sure).
As humans, it feels good when we take care of each other, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s almost nothing as reassuring as knowing someone is out there who has your back, who has your best interests at heart, who would do their darndest to protect you and support you in times of need.
It got me thinking. Do I watch out for people I love? Do I preemptively plant myself between them and a nosedive down the figurative staircase? Do I even have people who require that kind of care in my life?
Well, this week, I’ll be keeping an eye out for how I can help. The key, as I see it, is to provide support without being asked–after all, Chaser was just standing there behind the door, not barking to be let in herself. It was Zoey’s initiative that informed me her sister was waiting.
So, time to take some initiative. Is your spouse struggling with the groceries while her toddler screams? Help unload the food from the bags. See a person shuffling across the street as the pedestrian lights count down? Give them a hand. Notice your loved one’s coffee mug is drained? Offer to refill it. And so on.
This week’s challenge is to watch out for those you love–and then do something to lend a hand.
As always, let me know how it goes.
Last week’s challenge: Ignore minor physical impediments. Here’s how it worked out.
I have to admit, as much as I was determined to embrace stoicism in this area, it was definitely a major challenge at times.
When it comes to humans’ tolerance for pain, there seems to be a cutoff point after which normal functioning ceases to be possible. I have nothing but awe and admiration for those who continue to live their lives with chronic pain– back issues, migraines, arthritis and the like. Even with medication, it often means operating at a disadvantage, either because your thoughts aren’t as sharp as they should be, you’re still distracted by some degree of pain, or your body struggles under the radar to keep up with normal energy levels as it modulates pain that might not register in conscious awareness.
I have a cousin who suffers from arthritis and other non-specific inflammatory issues related to bones and muscles. She is able to walk for all of ten minutes at a time before her feet become so sore that she must sit down and rest for an equal interval before resuming movement. Even then, if she repeats this cycle more than two or three times, she’s grounded for the remainder of the day.
She tells me she’ll take painkillers only when the pain is so intolerable that she’s unable to think clearly otherwise. Imagine living permanently with this kind of pain. Far too many people do.
In my case, what presented initially as a seemingly minor ear infection eventually morphed into constant burning and razor-sharp stabbing pains, 24/7.
Adding to the fun, the agony eventually spread to my nasal sinuses and behind my eye. No one’s idea idea of a good time.
The worst part was the inability to muster any real energy to deal with anything else. Despite my use of decongestants and virtually every holistic approach known to humanity, all I really wanted was to curl up like a worm when you poke it with a stick, and head back into the darkness. Considering I had a full day of client calls on Zoom, probably not a good idea.
Stoicism to the winds, I finally whisked myself to the doctor’s office, where a quick examination revealed: “I don’t see anything. It’s a bit red and a bit inflamed, but it shouldn’t cause that much trouble. Hmmm. [Eyeing me as if I’m an impudent Munchausen patient], Let me swab it to see if it’s infected.”
In the meantime, I recall Martin Seligman’s seminal book, Learned Optimism, which taught me how my thinking around negative life experiences could change. You might know that optimists experience less stress in their lives than do pessimists, but I was surprised to discover they also experience less pain. And, when they do have pain, they handle it more effectively.
Another important antidote to pain is mindfulness meditation. Employing this form of mental focus may not literally reduce the degree of physical discomfort, but it does alter one’s perceptions of it, allowing for better response overall.
As the Mayo Clinic tells us, “Mindfulness exercises help people to focus their mind and body in the moment without judgment. Daily mindfulness practice can be helpful for people living with chronic pain because sometimes there are negative or worrisome thoughts about the pain. These thoughts are normal, and can affect mood and increase pain.”
The daddy of modern mindfulness is Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Full Catastrophe Living, of course, which explains how to meditate this way as well as other benefits of the practice. Well worth checking out.
At this point, it’s been a week since the visit, and I haven’t heard back from the doctor. I assume there was no major infection or deadly ear wax. And so, taking my cue from Chaser, I too will continue to move forward each day, albeit temporarily impeded, and do my best to disregard the constant pain.
Those of you who deal with chronic pain, what do you do? Undoubtedly your strategies will help others immensely, too, so please share.