“I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role models for being alive.”~ Gilda Radner
Sometimes when you are not looking, life gives you a reminder, ever so gently, of something you must know. It is a little pearl of wisdom or a tiny gift from someone you were least expecting, an 'aha' moment when everything clicks and all at once you see something that makes your heart skip a beat and you feel warm and fuzzy all over.
I awoke to the sound of choking. It was dark and it took a few moments for my sleepy eyes to adjust to the blackness around me. Our 14-year old dog Shadow was on his feet, fumbling around and making the most awful sound, a distressing sound, a sound that dogs are not supposed to make.
I called out to him, still unable to locate that black wooly ball of fur in the darkness that filled the room. He couldn’t hear me. He’s mostly deaf and struggling with cataracts that make it hard for him to find his way. “Getting old is not for sissies,” my Dad used to say.
When my eyes finally caught up, I saw the most amazing sight. Our 5-year old rescue dog Katie, who has been with us for less than a year was at his side, her head cocked in a curious sort of way, checking to see if Shadow was OK. She wandered around the room with him, licking him lovingly, letting him know that she was there if he needed her. After a while, the choking would stop and both dogs would go back to bed.
Moments later, it started again. The scene repeated itself several times. Each time Katie got up and went to his side. Each time she tenderly licked his face. Each time she stayed next to him until the episode stopped.
Earlier that evening, my son came home from his baseball game. “How’d it go?” I asked him, unable to attend because I had been teaching.
“Fine,” he said, but I could tell that it wasn’t. “Coach was all over me, though. I’m not sure why. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t done anything for him to be on me about. He just was.”
“Did he talk to you after the game?” I asked. That’s always my first question. I can’t help myself. It’s the therapist in me.
I got the look that we parents of teenagers sometimes get. The “you’ve got to be kidding” look. The “what planet do you live on?” look. It’s the look that lets you know that you have just entered into a parallel universe where life as you know it ceases to exist.
“Of course not,” he answered as though the question needed no answer. And looking me straight in the eye, he said, “He just hates me.”
Not the words a parent wants to hear.
I sometimes wonder what coaches are thinking when they sign on for the job. I wonder if they realize that they hold the hearts and souls of young men and women in their hands. That what they say matters, that the kids take it to heart. I wonder if they know that they have the potential to shape a young person, to nurture and tend to their self esteem the way a gardener gently coaxes seedlings to sprout for spring planting. I wonder if they realize that it’s not just about bat speed and fielding and final scores. That sometimes it’s not about the game at all.
We never know when we’re going to struggle. Not the minute nor the hour nor the day. Wouldn’t it be nice to know that there was someone out there in the darkness helping us find our way?