Adored

Been adored lately?
 
It’s a pretty amazing feeling.
 
My newest shelter pet, a black Lab named Miley, adores me to the point where people at the dog park say, “She knows you saver her, and she’s grateful!” Miley hardly leave my side, obeys me immediately… and hugs me. She did it for the first time when I came back from India.
 
I had only had her 6 weeks when I left for Chennai, and the house was already disordered because Rusty had passed on not two weeks before. The one day I dragged big boxes into the living room, and suddenly I was gone.
 
I felt badly for her… I planned to come back in three weeks, but had no way of telling her that. Dogs live in the moment, and for the time of my absence her moments were going to be filled with uncertainty at best. First Rusty had disappeared, then me… David played with her and fed her, of course, but I am her pack leader. And I left her.
 
When I got home, David opened the door and she ran straight to me, stood on her hind legs, wrapped her front legs around my waist and stared right into my eyes.
 
I cried.
 
Now every time I come home, I get that hug. It is intoxicating to have a being THAT happy to see you.
 
But just like I couldn’t tell her I was going away for a finite time and then coming back, I can’t tell her she’s had enough rawhide sticks… I can only ignore her hints for more chewies. She wants to go wherever I do, but most times I tell her to ‘stay’, leaving her behind to await my return. Like all conscientious pet ‘parents’, I make decisions for her that are incomprehensible to her, but by which she must abide – things she can’t eat, objects she can’t play with, places she can’t go no matter how badly she wants to. And explanation is not possible.
 
I can’t tell her that she is going to the vet Monday morning. I can’t explain that for two days they are going to give her what are basically chemo sessions that will make her feel sick (as a dog??), but that it’s for her own good. For those two days she will feel miserable; ill, away from home, locked in a cramped cage, and with no clue for how long she must endure. And that’s on me; not only did I let that happen, I arranged  it. I took her there and left her.
 
But when I pick her up Wednesday after work, she will be heartworm-free. And she has no idea at what cost or that it’s part of a bigger plan for her longer, more active life.
 
At least with little kids you can explain your decisions and know that eventually they will understand, even agree. But Miley must trust that whatever I do, it won’t be for her harm. She trusts me for basics like her food and drink and shelter; and she trusts me for affection and to show she matters in our household. To strengthen her trust, I plan walks and trips to the dog park to please her, and give her treats to reward her good behavior. I talk to her and tell her all sorts of things she can’t make heads or tails of. I pet her and scratch her ears and let her crawl into my lap on the couch – she is my ‘Lap-rador’ – and let her know in every way that she is loved.
 
But sometimes I leave her in places where uncomfortable things happen to her.
 
Yet, she trusts me.
 
Have you ever pondered on the unique convention of human beings keeping pets? Birds and rodentia and reptiles feel like they are one open-cage-door away from becoming wild animals again, but cats and dogs have come to share our homes, our food, our beds, our lives. Cats, for instance – we humans feed cats, give them safe places to sleep, catnip and playthings, but there is still an aloofness on their part; an accept-me-on-my-terms attitude. The cat is a symbol for a don’t-touch-me, superior, who-needs-you? state of mind.
 
But dogs behave differently – by watching to see what we do next, wanting to be near us, sharing our emotions, obeying our directives, exhibiting loyalty, trust and adoration. Dogs are sold-out for their people. As a pet owner, I have a lesson being played out right before my eyes.
 
I imagine that cats give us a taste of how God feels when we accept His blessing but fail to acknowledge Him. Dogs on the other hand, model how we should relate to God.
 
As Miley’s provider, it is so easy for me to imagine God saying, “I know this is going to make you feel bad for a while, but in the long run, things will be SO much better”, or “I moved that out of your reach so that you wouldn’t grab for it. It’s not the best thing for you,” about circumstances I find myself in. So easy for me to accept that, whatever my circumstances, my trust should not be shaken because I am too limited to understand the explanation for them; my lifeline is to trust my Provider. In loving my dogs, I’ve learned the lesson of being dog-like; trusting, loyal, longing for closeness.
 
Adoring my Provider.