"Everything natural — every flower, tree, and animal — has important lessons to teach us if we would only stop, look and listen." — Eckhart Tolle.
"It would be nice," I often thought over the first six months of life with my new puppy, to be able to plead ignorance or insanity: ignorance about how big and challenging her breed is, or perhaps insanity in the face of my newly "empty nest."
The truth is, though, that, by the time my two grown daughters and I went to Logan Airport to pick up Ettore (whom my son-in-law laughingly nick-named "Fed Ex"), I had done a lot of research and decided that this 15-pound baby Cane Corso from Las Vegas was just what I wanted.
Knowing that her breed requires extensive training, I took every bit of advice I could get from her breeder, her trainer, her vet and literature. What I didn't fully understand was the intrinsic strength of a creature's "nature;" we are who we are.
Shouldn't weekly obedience classes, daily socialization with people and dogs, lavish affection and plenty of exercise form her into a loveable, obedient dog? She was a sweet little baby, but at 8 months and 120 pounds, she entered adolescence and came into her nature; dominant, protective and stubborn.
Even her vet said that my Las Vegas showgirl was acting like a "junkyard dog." I didn't think I would be able to keep her. My heart was breaking.
Norm Bishop, of the Yellowstone Wolf Recovery Project, told a story about a very special dog he owned many years ago. It was "wolfish" in many of its manners and would leap on him to nuzzle and lick and nibble his face in greeting.
Sometimes, Norm would get angry and smack him. Years later, he began studying wolves and learned that leaping and nibbling is how wolves show their love, respect and joy, "all the good things I meant to him."
"I hit him because I didn't understand," he said. "I wondered what it was like for him to be hit. It must have been utterly confusing to be so completely misunderstood."
Norm's confession tugged at my heart. His words point to the truth that what is in our nature is not always in our best interest, if we want to be accepted.
The Buddhists have a saying: "When the student is ready, the teacher appears."
Glenn Goldman, Ettore's trainer, pointed out that Ettore took all of the love and care I lavished on her as if it was her due, and gave nothing in return; it was disrespectful. She was being thankless and impolite.
Glenn's words were a heavy blessing, but he taught me how to help Ettore respect the value of my love. In return, Ettore is teaching me a lot; not only to place value on what I bring to relationships, but also that God's creatures are happiest when we remember that we answer to a higher authority.
Working on, witnessing and reflecting on her transformation, I find parallels with a life of faith.
An attitude of appreciation, respect, adoration and joy are evidence that we hold the gift of love most precious. Human and divine, love is worth everything. It is our glad receipt of love that makes the gift complete.
"We are ultimately not separate, not from one another nor from any living thing — the flower, the tree, the cat, the dog. You can sense yourself in them, the essence of who you are. You could say God. There is a term, a Christian term which is beautiful, "loving the Creator in the creature.'"
And so, for family and sea and sky and earth and friends and one good dog, I give all thanks and glory to God.
The Rev. Rona Tyndall is pastoral care coordinator with Hospice of the North Shore. Midweek Musings is a regular weekly column that rotates among members of the Cape Ann clergy.
