Barney

While in Colorado, I spent the majority of my time with my dear Chloe and her dear Barney. This lovely gentleman is a 10 year old pug who was rescued from a puppy mill situation. He had been studding for the entirety of his life, but had escaped his entrapments and was found running down the street. The woman who found both Barney and his mate had been fostering the ol' gent when Chloe found out about him. And now, seven months later, Chloe and Barney are in love.

Of course, it's not all sunshine and roses. Barney is old and has a lot of health problems. Chloe is young and very active. But, somehow, they make sense. Being with them reminded me of how much I love Ace and the amazing trials and growth that come from letting a dog into your life (and if I may be mushy, heart).

Before I left for Colorado, Ace and I were standing in the backyard. It was a frigid Bostonian evening, but I had wanted to give my dear boy one last chance to relieve himself and sniff around. As he was examining his favorite nooks and crannies of the backyard we share with the rest of the apartment complex,  a man chanced to walk by. Because we had just run out for a moment, Ace was off-leash and the gate was wide open.

I froze. I hoped that Ace would not see the man and tried to reposition myself between Ace and the open gate. Too late. He set off at a pace that I couldn't help but admire. I called out to the stranger, "He's a nice dog. I promise. He won't hurt you. He just doesn't like strangers."

I wanted to call after Ace, but by this point I knew it was futile. Ace is not a huge fan of the "come" command and less so when I sound upset. I rushed out the gate toward both Ace and the strange man. Still a good twenty yards away, the man responded, "Don't worry. I have dogs. It's ok."

"ACE," I yelled. "COME."

Before I could take another step, Ace dropped his tail, turned around quickly, and trotted right back to me. I was so shocked that he had responded that I didn't know what to do. I looked at the man and apologized. I looked at Ace and simply said, "Good boy. Thank you for coming back. Oh and making me look like a fool."

As we turned toward our apartment, that moment lingered with me. Actually, Ace had not made me look like a fool. There was nothing foolish about that encounter. I probably shouldn't have left the gate open, sure. If I hadn't, though, I wouldn't know now that Ace can come back. I wouldn't know that I can be that vulnerable and open to disaster and somehow the world could not fall apart. Maybe leaving the gate open was an accident, but maybe I left the gate open because I trust Ace. And, in the end, I have to trust him and myself, and the universe. Because bad things may happen or greatness may happen, but neither can possibly take place if I try to control everything. Life inherently denies anyone control. That's half the fun.

When I think of Chloe and Barney, I can't help but see the same principle in action. Despite his age or any illness, Chloe has taken Barney into her home. At first, I saw this as some benevolent act of bearing witness as a good dog fades into old age. Examined in light of my experience with Ace, though, I know that really, Chloe has embraced the uncontrollable nature of life and love (even with a dog). I admire her so much for this commitment to Barney and to allowing a dog so different from herself change her life daily. These little four-legged buddhas crawl into our lives, hog our beds, and pry open the dark recesses of our hearts, showing us how to just let go, take a risk, and trust in life.

How lucky are we?

Barney is a rather splendid co-pilot. Er, well, backseat driver.

Too cute.

He's hunting geese as if he were a spry eight year old.