Things I Learn From My Dog

Here is a great, short article from The Huffington Post called "Bouvie and Me: Things I Learn From My Dog." There have been lots of articles on this topic, but I still enjoy reading them. At the end of the article the author gives a short list of dog rules to live by and asks what other dog owners have learned from their dogs. That question is what grabbed me.

One of the best lessons I've learned from Danny is how to appreciate what I have and not focus on what I don't have. Danny had a period of disability, or in his eyes being "differently abled," shortly after we got him (read the story here). The problem occurred between 9 and 14 months of age, so he was quite puppy-ish and loved to play with other dogs. It was a really rough patch for us humans. For years, we dreamed of the day when we would have dogs. We finally got our wish and within a few weeks our large puppy could barely walk. His ability declined so rapidly that every day was different, but at some point we got well-equipped enough (a wagon, rugs on the hardwood floors, harnesses to lift him, and lessons on how to safely lift and carry him) to handle him even if he completely lost the ability to walk. Fortunately it never came to that.

Here is Danny at that time laying in his favorite spot near the front door. You can see the back harness we used to help him stand. We placed his water bowl nearby, and the rug was a cheap purchase at Target to make it easier for him to stand. His head is resting next to his cone (to keep him from licking an incision) on a second rug, a nice thick shag. The shaved spot and stitches are from one of his many tests.



During that time, I would load all 60 pounds of him into a big yellow garden wagon, roll him into the dog park and lay him on the ground. Sometimes, all he could do is playfully swat at the dogs that came close. Some dogs were leery of him, but others jumped right in and wrestled even though Danny was never on top. Almost all of the dogs instinctively adapted their play style for him. On one of Danny's worst days, we were in the park and he couldn't stand at all. As I watched the other dogs romp, run and play I wiped tears behind my sunglasses because my dog was just laying limply on the ground waiting for others to come to him. It seemed so sad and unfair that he might have to live his whole life this way. Later, it was my husband who pointed out that Danny didn't seem sad and in fact relished his time at the park. I've seen the same happy attitude in other disabled dogs as they bop along on a wheelchair, 3 legs or even in a dog stroller pushed by humans.

Danny was always able to relish what he could do. When his condition was really bad, I used to "walk" him by letting him go as far as he could (usually only 1/2 a block or so) and then I would roll him through the neighborhood in his wagon, stopping at all the bushes so he could sniff. I drove him around in the car, just so he could get out. I played with him by simply putting different toys in and out his mouth as he lay on the floor. During all this time, he never seemed sad about what he didn't have and was always up for whatever adventure we could provide him with.

I often think of this lesson when I am bemoaning something I don't have. Danny has helped me to focus more on what I have instead of feeling sad about what is missing. This has been a great lesson I have learned from my dog and one way I wish I could be more like him.

Tomorrow's post will be the second lesson I learned from Danny.











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