The Magnificent Boy
As I walked along the ocean today I wept as I recalled the day I was mean to my dog Bacchus.
Bacchus was a remarkable being. I looked at every animal shelter and dog rescue around the Bay/East Bay Area in San Francisco and Oakland for 3 months before I found him. The day we met I knew this magnificent creature (a German German shepherd) was the boy for me. It was ’til death do us part. And that was a fact.
Bacchus was a pure bred shepherd and the sweetest dog I’ve ever known. He never growled, nor did he ever bite. Although he looked formidable, he had no cause to be and therefore was not. He LOVED people and always slept with overnight guests if they allowed it (and usually they did).
Anyone could get in my car or enter my home and be met with a warm greeting, wagging tail, tongue hanging out, and all that good stuff. For years I had big Halloween parties and you could find Bacchus laying in the middle of the dance floor or running around greeting everyone, enjoying the show, getting into the groove.
The Meanness of Me
Bacchus is gone now, but I remember a time about 12 years ago like it was yesterday. It was the day I was mean to Bacchus.
We lived out-of-town near Ojai in a cottage surrounded by lots of land. He had doggy friends next door and they came out to play before or at the break of dawn, way too early for my brain to register a new day.
The “owner” (silly term) of Bacchus’ doggy friends, Tim, was out and about himself and Bacchus loved him too. Every morning he awakened me at what seemed like before dawn with whining and barking that wouldn’t cease until I let him outside. He was so excited to see his friends.
The only problem was, Tim’s wife didn’t always want Bacchus to come out that early. I don’t quite remember why, something about grass or that sort of thing. So, I faced a dilemma. What to do?
Teaching Bacchus “A Lesson”
One morning I decided to teach Bacchus a lesson. I’d “break” him of the habit of whining and barking to go out every morning. I hooked him up to his leash and correction collar and every time he barked and whined (and believe me he could whine with the best of them when he wanted something) I yanked on his collar and told him to lay down. Being the well-trained boy he was, he’d lay down, only to get back up a moment later and the whole scenario would re-play itself.
In the meantime, being exhausted and beside myself, I became more pissed off. I yanked and made him lay down over and over, and began yelling at him in the process.
Finally, I gave in and left him out, probably because I came to my senses and felt horrible about my behavior. I’ll never forget him running outside and his diarrhea that followed. What caused it? Did he have to go to the bathroom the whole time or was it the trauma of what I’d just put him through? Or both? Any way I look at it, I’m not proud.
Why A Confession?
The purpose of my “confession” isn’t to seek outside forgiveness. It’s something more pressing that calls upon me to tell this story that I wish weren’t true.
It’s about my own meanness. I simply can’t pretend I don’t have meanness in me. Yet, it’s more than that. It’s about the meanness in we humans.
If I turn my back on this part of myself, I’m choosing to fragment myself and if I do that I lose my sense of wholeness. If you’re like me you yearn for wholeness with every fiber of your being.
I want to do the “right” thing, not right according to an external dictate but rather in the sense of what feels connected and loving. I believe we have that capacity without an outside authority we fear being the motivating factor.
The Real Me And You
Although I’d love to believe that wasn’t “the real me” it was. After all, I love animals, and children, and people for the most part. I’d like to think of myself as a “good” person.
And I am. Yet, I’m also the person who was mean, cruel really, to my dog. I hurt his spirit.
The truth is, everything we do is the real us. When someone shows a side of themselves you haven’t seen, it’s not that it wasn’t the REAL them. It’s simply that you hadn’t yet observed this part of them. Believe it. Don’t fool yourself.
Life Is In Shades Of Gray
Last week I touched upon the sacred in an oh so irreverent way. Yet, I must ask this question:
How can we honor the sacred and bask in it if we pretend we’re only the ‘good’ parts?
Pia Mellody put it eloquently when she said: “Hug your demons or they’ll bite you in the ass”. Life is filled with paradox and shades of gray, not black and white, and I’d like to think the sacred is as well.
In my worldview, there must be a place for questions for life is filled with mystery. I don’t trust anyone who sums life up in a heartbeat and serves it up like it’s all figured out. Usually, that person also attempts to tell me what to think and how to be. I don’t believe the sacred texts of the various religions can be reduced to this without destroying their true essence.
I’d like to think there’s room for soul-searching questions. A space for seeking the truth through living in a soulful manner.
Soulfulness implies sitting with the totality of who we are, including the messy parts we’d rather not look at. The road less traveled, that of the individualistic seeker, involves sitting with the uncomfortableness of knowing we don’t have answers for everything. And never will. The magnificent gift and wonderment of being human contains mystery – and a lot of it!
So, in the spirit of the totality of who we are here goes:
I’m generous, I’m selfish. Compassionate and warm, uncaring and cold. I love wholeheartedly and hate in flashes. I’ve hurt people who’ve loved me by being careless and self-centered (and probably will again though I try not to). I’m flexible, and rigid. Wise and immature. Conscious and oblivious. I’m fiercely independent and self-sufficient sometimes to the point of not letting someone in, yet I long for love and union and can feel clingy and anxious about any perceived loss of love. I’m strong and weak. Brave and fearful. I don’t always live up to my values. ANY OTHER STORY I TELL MYSELF IS A LIE. A FACADE.
There’s another reason I tell this story. It’s hard to trust someone when they pretend they don’t have a shadow side. And trust is important for it is the cornerstone of a “real” relationship.
Truth be told, it’s likely you’re all these things too.
To really take the full ride of life, to delve deep into the mystery of being in our bodies on this planet, there must be room for questions and a place for the acknowledgment of the underbelly of our humanness. The shadow, the negative side of humans, is not just out there, it’s in us.
Maybe with this acknowledgment we can choose compassion over and over again. When we’re fortunate, loved ones help us along on the path and give us reality checks. Best of all, friends love us for who we really are.
It’s real healing to be seen and loved all at once. We don’t heal in a vacuum, we heal in relationship and community.
Bacchus And My Relationship
I can’t know how Bacchus perceived me after this event. I only know the love I felt for him ’til the day he died as I held him in my arms. He lived to the ripe old age of 14. Bacchus seemed like a happy boy and maintained a puppy-like essence until late into his life.
That’s not to say he wasn’t impacted and traumatized by the experience I’ve related here. Yet, somehow, as humans and other beings, we often manage to live through these experiences and love still abides. I believe there was love between us. Did he ever really trust me after that? I can’t know. And that has to be okay. What is the benefit of compassion if reserved only for others?
Your Experience?
I’d love to hear from anyone who’d like to reflect upon the concepts of this post and/or share your personal experiences.
In spite of shortcomings, the hope is that you’ll choose to find the courage and forgiveness to open your hearts one more time, to bask in the arms of love. This is the purpose and intention of this site, and it is my sincere desire that you all may experience the best relationships ever.
Love makes it all worthwhile.
Check out a lesson I learned from Bacchus: http://You Can Swim
Photo Courtesy Of: http://www.flickr.com/photos/llimaorosa
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
I think Bacchus trusted you after that. He had to weigh the love and kindness you showed him most of your time together. I don’t think animals, like people, forgive half-ass, if you will. But if one keeps mistreating them they’ll go to their animal instincts and bite you a new one.
As this applies to relationships between people, I think it’s a matter of assessing our behavior and working to correct our meanness or whatever it is we need to change. It’s a gift we humans have, the ability to forgive ourselves and others and move on. Unfortunately, humankind too often doesn’t do well in this regard. So we need to learn and you teach well.
Thanks for your kind comments Ernesto. You’re a good teacher yourself.
Hugs,
Lauren
Hi Lauren, I saw this post over on TDBS and I just had to come and read.
I totally understand. I’ve been the caretaker of 3 dogs and 3 cats in the last 20 years or so. A dog and 2 cats have passed on. So many people think I’m a miracle worker or St. Francis because of how I care for them: they have my undying devotion, I love them dearly, and I give them everything in the best way I know how, and I’m always learning and improving.
I have had my moments, though, just like you. I also remember times I lost my patience–my dearly beloved late dog Hans was quite a wild child from a shelter, and my “first born” cat sometimes drove me nuts–he was so needy and demanding. I yelled at him a few times and there were times I jerked the leash way too rough on Hans or my other dogs. I smacked Hans a few times too–nothing horrible, just an open palm smack on the butt as he lunged, for the 10th time or whatever–while on a walk on the leash. I didn’t know how to train him at first, and it seems like he did it when I was least capable of handling it–did he pick up on my negative energy? Probably. He didn’t seem to suffer, and it calmed him down, but I knew it wasn’t necessary so I felt so bad because I did it in anger. One time I yelled at my dog Jack and he did a stress pee, and I almost started crying I felt so bad.
Anyway, I’ve tortured myself with guilt as well, and I could describe each and every time I behaved poorly just as you did (there aren’t so many that I can’t remember each one). But here is the thing that I also accept: we make mistakes. We don’t have teaching or learning to know how to gauge our levels of frustration and how to handle it as it builds (think anger management). Animals come into our lives to teach us things sometimes. I know mine have–I call them my Zen Masters. They have taught me so much about myself.
I don’t think we’re mean–or we wouldn’t have the guilt–so much as we just don’t know ourselves, our hurts and pain, and how they erupt in anger when challenged (though I understand what you mean about a dark side). I already knew I have this capacity to get pissed off (at least with humans!) when I adopted my animals but I couldn’t forsee how difficult it could get, especially with divorce and some other challenges as I cared for them, unexpectedly, by myself. I’m human. I’m imperfect. But the beauty of it is what they’ve taught me: knowing how I can get upset and how I can act, and how I can handle incidents much better. My new dog (3 years now) has rarely seen me get frustrated–I’ve learned. And when I do? Not a big deal if I bark back at her! She knows she’s pushing me beyond my limits, and she’ll go to her bed and wait for me to come in and give her a hug.
And also, I’ve attended grief counseling groups at a local animal hospital when my animals friends were sick and died, and in a couple groups the counselor brought this up. Every single hand in groups of 10-20 went up when asked if we ever felt guilty about yelling or mistreating our beloved pets. That doesn’t mean everyone loses their temper, but it seems most of us do.
Well I thought I’d share. I’m not perfect, nobody is. Even though I’ve had a lot of guilt, it’s a waste of time because it’s in the past. Energy is better spent on learning the lessons and improving.
I am sure Bacchus loved you as much as you loved him. I can’t speak for him, of course, but if he’s like my dogs, he let it go and just understood you better. Maybe he trusted you even more because he saw your shadow side, just as you are with people. Maybe he felt he knew you better and loved you even more.
Dear Leah,
I just saw your comment and appreciate your beautiful words of wisdom and comfort. Yes, our animals are Zen Masters indeed. I’ve learned so much from my animal friends – and children!
It’s enlightening to hear that those who care for animals the most acknowledge they (we) have our moments. The sadness about that does reveal the level of genuine love we feel for our animals.
Thank you for opening your soul and sharing your experience. It warms my heart.
Love,
Lauren
Oh, how I love reading your words today, Lauren. This wholeness that you speak of, I believe we all long for it. But as you say, I don’t think we’ll get there if we deny the parts of us that cast us in a bad light. I think that for the most part, humans still prefer to divide things between good and evil with little room for all the grays in between. It helps simplify things in more understandable terms because, let’s face it, who wants complex especially in modern times? But when we do this, we box ourselves in and here we have all these parts that spill out of the box and we squeeze and squeeze ourselves into this box not knowing that some things are simply never gonna fit. We are complex and there are no “Ten Ways To Simplify Life” bs will change that. We are capable of as much bad as we are of good and all the stuff that lie in between and knowing this will help us on our path to wholeness.
Thank you for your voice in the blogosphere.
Dear Belinda,
I was heartened by your words. I love your commitment to the shades of gray.
It’s a beautiful thing that our path to wholeness is strewn with the love of our friends, those who see us as we are and love us wholeheartedly. I imagine you’re walking such a path of love and embracement.
Big hugs and love,
Lauren
I appreciate you sharing this experience. I have behaved this way with my dog as well, and the guilt feelings afterwards were almost overwhelming.
I don’t know what it is, but we truly always hurt the ones we love. I sometimes think it has to do with a certain “comfort level” and the feeling that because we are loved by this other being, we can behave however we want and they will keep coming back. No doubt w are complicated and imperfect beings.
I know this. I love my dog, and when I do not treat her like she deserves, I feel awful. I try to learn from those mistakes and not repeat that behaviour.
Thanks for posting this, it helps.
Rich
Dear Rich,
I just saw your comment as I haven’t posted recently. I’m glad to hear my post helped a bit. I, too, still experience guilt over that morning with Bacchus. I need to mix in, though, all the love-filled moments and tender care I gave Bacchus over 14 years.
Still, if you’re like me, I strive to have integrity in all my actions. We learn about ourselves by how we treat children, animals, inmates, those in a more vulnerable position.
As you say, we do tend to hurt the ones we love. I guess all the family patterns, etc. emerge. Not always so pretty. I think, though, facing the truth of our less than perfect selves helps balance us.
Wishing you the best,
Lauren
do u now why my dog is really nasty to me
Hi. I can relate to what you are feeling. I had to put my 9 year old Bichon Frise named Rocky to sleep yesterday. He has been with us for 9 years. I am a mess. I have guilt in me for being mean to him at times because he drove me crazy. I loved him so much but when he made mistakes in the house we yelled at him and punished him. He was recently diagnosed with Cushings and went blind practically overnight. He was also displaying other health problems even though the medicine kept his numbers good. He started have kidney issues and from what we are told might have been suffering a little brain trauma from slamming into walls because he can not see where he was going. I was mean to him by losing my patience when he just could not stop eating. I would at times not always push him with my foot away from the refrigerator. Financially over 9 years he put a strain on us. He was sick from a puppy. We did knee replacements on him, fixed a torn ACL, histiotomas, ear infections, he suffered from IBS, so much. He was adorable and so loving and I used to hold him and let him lick my face, he slept with us and now we have an empty bed. I just have guilt for being mean to him and I can’t take it back, but all I can do is cry and feel as though I let him down. Though I know he knows I love him, I just wish i did not feel this way. Thanks for posting.
Dear Nichole,
Ah, my dear soul, I wish I had seen your comment sooner.
I hope you remember to include in your thoughts all the wonderful things you did for your doggy and the love you shared. You obviously cared tremendously for him.
And I understand the guilt. It’s what people of conscience have when they fail to meet their own standard – something people who aren’t capable of love don’t experience!
Hugs to you,
Lauren
I was laying in bed, not able to sleep, feeling guilty and ashamed for the times I’ve lost my temper with my dog. Somehow I came across this page which is what I needed to hear. Today I found out he has cancer and probably cannot be treated. He’s such a sweet and loyal dog (cocker spaniel) so my mind is flashing back to everything I’ve done wrong in my 11 years of having him. I have a dark side that I don’t like to admit. Thanks for sharing your experience and your perspective.
Dear Chuck,
I hope you read the prior comments and responses.
Yes, we who have a conscience and are capable of love sometimes feel guilty. Those who cannot connect enough to love aren’t bothered by that troublesome emotion. Perhaps it’s the price we pay to love.
Still, let’s hope we can balance our guilt with the memories of the many loving acts – that would be ALL you’ve done RIGHT.
I hear you, it’s not easy acknowledging our dark side. I would have preferred to not write this post, but that would be a pretense and if there’s anything that matters to me it’s being authentic with my readers. Authentic in my imperfections.
Thank you for revealing your own dark side. It’s inspiring.
Warm regards,
Lauren
I am trying to forgive myself for putting my dog to sleep for which I believe were selfish reasons. His name was Peyton, he was a 13 y/o 5lb Yorkie and he was the most loving and gentle spirit I’ve ever known. He loved me unconditionally. But when he went blind and part deaf, when he was incontinent, I frequently lost my patience. I complained and I yelled at him sometimes. How would you like to be yelled at in a world of darkness? I took care of all his needs, food/water but I had to crate him towards the end because I work all day and he wandered and peed everywhere. I put newspaper in his basket and I kept it fresh and dry. This dog was with me everywhere I went before he went blind. I treated him like my child. I mean I really did treat him like a king for most of his life. That’s why it was so sad to come home everyday, I work long hours, and he was sitting in the fading evening light, alone and probably scared, in his own urine. But he still loved to eat. Why did I put him to sleep? I want him back. I want to just cuddle him and love him. What am I going to do? I can’t get through this.
Dear Gentle Spirit Suzanne,
I feel for your sense of pain about your beloved dog. It must be hard to cope with how difficult the end of his life was.
I’m not convinced, though, that you put him to sleep just to make it easier for yourself. It sounds like his quality of life had greatly deteriorated. Would you want to live in his condition? I wouldn’t.
We view death in such a distorted manner to begin with that we don’t come to terms with it well.
But, back to an important point you made. You don’t feel good about becoming upset with him. I hear you. It’s hard to see how we can be when we are under tremendous stress. It’s challenging to cope with watching a loved one suffer and to not be able to relieve that suffering. And it’s hard to face that we simply lose it sometimes.
You are very courageous to write about it. Talk with someone. Remember the good times with your boy. Give yourself time to heal. And consider some sort of emotional release work to get your feelings out. Let yourself cry. Wail if you need to. It will get easier. It does take time. Most of all, Suzanne, be gentle with yourself.
Thinking of you and sending lots of love your way,
Lauren
Dear Lauren, my darling baby, passed away on the 15th of January. She was 16 and a half. Salony was the sweetest gentlest most wonderful baby ever and I loved her more than life itself. She was the biggest love of my life and now that she’s gone, I dont know how I will survive. I feel really really bad that I just didnt realize how sick she was till it was too late. She had stopped eating and would sleep most of the time. when I took her to the vet he said it’s just old age. I didnt know better, she was my first ever.So i would try to forcefeed her and get her to eat and would try and keep her as comfortable as possible. She couldnt walk so I got her a stroller to go out in. She ate only the best meats and treats and always got the best in everything. But I cant forgive myself for not realizing she was so sick..she was sleeping all the time and I thought old age…how could I not have known???
I dont think I will be ever able to forgive myself though for yelling at her just one day before I found out she was sick. I thought she was just being stubborn. I was trying to help her to pee in the bathroom like she always did of late after a meal..but she wouldnt pee and she kept sitting down everytime I made her stand up. I thought she was just being stubborn cos she used to do that so I tried and tried and finally yelled at her and smacked her bottom out of sheer frustration. Please dont get me wrong, I tried my best to take good care of my baby, NEVER scolded her for accidents around the house…it’s just that that night I couldnt understand how to help her and got so frustrated. In my frustration, I muttered angrily that I should just put you to sleep:-((( I cant believe I said that!! felt so bad instantly after that i immediately hugged her and kissed her and told her how sorry I was for saying that and I really didnt mean it. Even till then I didnt know that her kidneys were failing which is why she wasnt peeing. When I took her to the vet the next morning he said it was a matter of a few hours!! I was in shock. I tried my best but nothing worked and my baby passed away in my lap five days later. for those five days all I did was be with her and tell her how much I loved her and how sorry I was that I couldnt make it better. I feel so bad about what I said to her the day before..it was almost like she went away because of what her mama did. How do I move forward from this? When I think of the few times in life that I’ve been mean to my baby I just cant forgive myself…She was the best baby in the world.
Dear Rashmi,
It is clear you are suffering immensely at the moment.
Losing our beloved animals is challenging and heartbreaking. Death is a part of life. It’s the natural evolution of life.
You had no way of knowing your dog was so ill and clearly her time to pass was now. It isn’t your fault. We don’t have control over these things.
Your dog felt your tremendous love. I always joked with my dog that I was going to “blue juice” him. That’s just my warped sense of humor. Your dog knew she was safe with you.
I, too, spent several days holding my doggy boy before he died. What a gift you gave.
Forgive yourself for being human. Go and love some more. People, creatures, nature, life.
Best wishes in your healing process.
Lauren
perhaps this is too old of a post, but i was googling ‘i am cruel to my child’ tonight and this came up amongst the searches. i googled this phrase, because i am sometimes scared at my ‘meanness’ or lack of feeling towards my child. it’s like i’m looking down at my self and saying this isn’t me. but instead an extremely cold person that is disconnected and certainly, not who i aim to be. i certainly have a lack of patience and/or a control issue. I do know as much that i was severely micromanaged as a child and was not trusted to have my own opinion or it wasn’t considered often. lastly, without placing the blame on my childhood (although a new discovery for me) i do know that my mother at times was like two completely different people. telling me how proud she was one time and then absolutely furious at others.her being angry so often for what seemed so trivial was and is still exhausting. but is there a link? is knowing we’re mean (some more quick to be than others) a way to end it? i hate not feeling in control of my meanness and the guilt is unbearable sometimes. But then i remember how i felt when i was young and how i never got to get that feeling of being in the way out of my system. How to cure it ?
Your honest acknowledgment is a respectable start. It takes courage. It definitely sounds as if your childhood experiences are connected to what you now perpetrate upon your child. You remember what it feels like to feel humiliated, yet we do tend to do what was done to us. It is essential that you get counseling to learn other ways of responding. Change is absolutely possible, but you need help to get there. You deserve it and so does your child.
In the meantime, always remember that it’s important to apologize and admit you made a mistake and you’re trying to learn and improve. Children also need to hear that.
Thanks for writing and best wishes to you. Take action today.
Lauren
wow, this is such a 1st world problem, guilt over yanking your dog on a leash. Do you feel any guilt that you get to eat while millions of children go hungry and are starving to death all over the world? Do you feel guilt that many people die senselessly in wars? Give me a break with all that. If you focused your guilt and kindness on real issues the world would be a better place.
Sandra,
You sound angry. I think cruelty to any being is worthy of exploration. And I don’t see how caring about living creatures in general deletes the possibility of having compassion for the fact that there is suffering in the world. That being said, no, I don’t feel guilty for eating.
Lauren
I was crying while reading your post. Today I was mean to my puppy and didnt’t fed him until night. I was so angry because of other reasons that I had to take it on him… I felt the need to make someone feel the way I was feeling and I know it was so wrong. The guilt I feel now is even bigger because he’s just a puppy. A puppy that has some issues with his left eye… I found comfort in your words, in the perspective of having a dark side but also a good side. I love my dog and I never want anything bad happen to him. Thank you for being honest and I’m sure Bacchus was proud of its owner.
Dear James,
I think having a creature that relies upon us and has less power (in a sense) shows us a lot about who we are. We all have less than perfect moments and feelings.
I try to learn from those moments. It’s challenging to face these aspects of ourselves, but I feel it’s important.
Thanks for sharing yours.
Feed puppy – and yourself!
Warm regards,
Lauren