“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.” Anonymous
While I generally agree with the wisdom of this, I think for it to be true, the thing that is being set free must know how to come back and have the maturity to do so—in other words, not necessarily applicable to puppies!
One of my fondest, crazy stories about Dog has to do with this very idea and it occurred when he was just a puppy…
Once Dog had all of his shots I started taking him on his soon-to-become daily walks.
Part of the joy of this routine quickly became the friends (both human and canine) that we began to meet along the way. Dog would approach warily at first, like the awkward guy at the singles bar. He would sniff and circle and then suddenly pounce, wanting to play. (Insert your own joke about singles bars here.)
I would strike up a conversation with the human on the other end of the leash and, like young mothers meeting at the park, we would exchange pleasantries about the weather, potty training and the merits of various experts such as Dr. Brazelton or The Dog Whisperer.
One of our regular canine pals was Joey, a big, handsome, gray, curly-haired dog. Joey was a good 30-40 pounds bigger than Dog, but he (and his owners) had a sweet disposition and we all got to be fast friends.
We would frequently meet on our walks and the dogs would circle and play with each other (and growl a little) as dogs often do when they are on their leash.
In our very well-behaved, very proper neighborhood we often see dogs off their leashes who walk calmly next to their owners as if they were on parade at the Westminster Kennel Show. These Über-dogs respond to a command the first time and were certainly the darlings of their obedience classes. Dog and I (me, mostly) are a teeny bit envious.
Being the procrastinator that I am, I had not taken Dog to obedience training yet (uh, and still haven’t almost two years later…) and we had never let him off the leash outside of our own backyard. But on one particular morning when the sun was shining brightly and it felt like everything was right with the world and I was feeling wild and optimistic and trusting in the Universe, when Joey’s parents suggested we let them off the leash to play, I was game.
“Will he run across the street?” I asked meekly, a little embarrassed about being overprotective and concerned about peer pressure and bad influences—everything you worry about when first letting someone you love go to be free to make their own decisions after being tightly controlled, under your watchful eye for so long.
“Oh, No! He never goes across the street! He’s very good!” Joey’s parents assured me.
So, feeling happy and optimistic and trusting, I unlatched Dog’s leash so that he and his friend could play freely.
Thrilled, the dogs chased each other around the park, hardly believing their good fortune in relinquishing the leashes. Then, in less than a minute, Joey gave Sunny a look that said, “Let’s ditch these human losers while we have the chance,” and Joey bolted across the main road of our neighborhood, running hard in some random (to me anyway) direction.
And what did Dog do? Did he look over at me to see if it was ok to follow his friend? Did he even consider my feelings? Or the dangers lurking beyond the safety of my loving protection?
Not for a moment! Dog took off like a lightning bolt, chasing his friend across the forbidden road, with nary a glance in my direction. I didn’t pause to see the horrified reactions of Joey’s parents or to make a funny comment about the irony of it all.
I just ran.
I don’t think I ran for long (Thank, Dog!) But I do know that I ran as fast as I could imagine without feeling tired. I entered a new dimension and I think I could have run a marathon without being aware of time or space. And my mind was racing, too. In the few moments from the time I crossed the street from the park, my brain ran through a million terrible thoughts.
What if someone saw Dog on the street and thought he was so cute and dognapped him?! What if one of those big SUVs in our neighborhood ran him over without even seeing him under their huge wheels? What would I tell the kids? “Mommy’s so sorry. She made a Bad Choice and let Dog off the leash and now he is gone forever.”
They would hate me, but maybe there would be a lesson in that, I thought, trying to make myself feel better. As Oprah says, “What is the gift in this experience?” In her essay about her beloved Golden Retriever, Gracie dying, she says "I know for sure that everything in life happens to help us live."
But, I'm not quite there yet.
I was all into fear and projecting into the future, but I made myself get back into the moment and pray, as I ran faster than I can ever remember running, “Oh, God, please let him be ok. Please let him be ok, please let me be ok,” like a mantra and a promise to make better choices in the future.
Then I turned the corner into the court that opens up to the path to our house and I saw Joey running back towards me—with no Dog following with behind him. And then my heart beat faster and the dark recesses of my mind took over and I feared for the worst and I thought about that terrible book I read, the Dogs of Babel...
And because I didn’t know what else to do or where else to go, I ran towards our house, frantically praying all the while.
And when I got there, my heart stopped. Literally stopped for about a half a second.
And I saw Dog sitting on the beat-up old welcome mat on the front porch of our house. Looking at me like he knew he had been a Bad Boy, but he was home now and everything was ok and could we just possibly forget that it all happened?
So, in this case, it worked. Happy Ending. I set something free and it came back. But, in general, I wouldn’t recommend it for puppies.
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