My little rescue dog Matilda, a pug/Yorkshire terrier cross, passed away a couple of weeks ago. She had issues unknown to me and, as my daughter Cindy put it, "an enigma that you couldn’t help but give your heart to!" To put it mildly, we formed a bond but it took time for me to understand a few things.
Because of what little I knew about 'Tilda, I was paranoid about her being a runaway and at first kept her constantly on a leash when outside of the house. Unattended, she would bark constantly. A strong little mutt, she broke a number of leashes and did indeed get away from me. Each time I died a thousand deaths and scoured the neighborhood for extended periods anxiously looking for her, always to little avail. She was like greased lightening.
More times than I can count, I dejectedly returned home after a search of several blocks, only to find, much to my relief and surprise, Matilda had beaten me back and was sitting casually on the doorstep as if to say "where have you been you silly man?" The last couple of times she got loose I did not even go looking for her, knowing that after dong her thing she would be back.
Finally, I realized that Matilda just wanted her freedom to do what a dog does. But she liked me and her living conditions sufficiently to always come home. In fact, I got the sense that our bond was strong enough that she did not want me to get upset if she was gone too long and she would look for me to lavish her with hugs, pats and good girl praises and treats on her return as a form of reward. She knew that I was proud of her and would generally soon find a spot on the couch or a comfortable chair for a contented nap and dreams of her latest adventure.
In retrospect, that little enigma of dog taught me something!
Quiet coincidentally, this week I heard of a similar story that enabled me to put my experience with Matilda all the more into perspective. In an honest bit of self-awareness, a man consumed with a constant level of anxiety confronted his struggle head-on during a life-changing moment of clarity. He explains it this way:
"I used to complain a lot. I used to worry a lot. I used to feel frustrated a lot. I used to question my worthwhileness a lot. I used to agonize over my unrealized dreams a lot. But all that began to change through my neighbor's dog, of all things.
"That puppy was neglected, left tied outside to a makeshift leash all the time. Enslaved by a collar at the end of a rope, the frustrated animal cried day and night. Then one day, I saw that the dog was loose. Somehow the leash had broken, but the poor thing just lollygagged around as though it were still tied.
"I thought, 'This animal gets an opportunity to be free and doesn't take it, then it doesn't deserve to be free.' Then an inner-voice spoke to me: 'That's you. You're looking at yourself.'
“This humbling revelation was the beginning of real freedom for me. My anxiety had taken me to a point in my life where I simply had to surrender the unrecoverable past and the unpredictable future to Divine Providence."
Just as easy as that, we can all have personal freedom.
Why remain tied to the burden of the past and the anxiety of a future over which we have no control? Let it go! Turn it all over to that higher power that some of us call God.
When we are free from all of the baggage that has held us back, we can be comfortable with where we are at in life. Just like a dog who is free from a confining leash but has no desire to run away permanently from where he/she is already at.
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