I have a shih-tzu; he is six years old, just the right size. Not too big, so I won’t look like he’s walking me, not too small either, so there’s no chance of confusing him for a toy. He’s truly my best friend. He’s cuddly, playful, so sweet, and loving. He’s a great companion, especially on my (yet to become daily) walks. He just loves going with me on those walks so he can mark his territory all over the neighborhood. As soon as he sees me grabbing for that blue leash, he’s headed for the door immediately!
So I take him on walks around the neighborhood and he’s usually well-behaved. He’s learned to heel and he’s even learned not to pay attention to other community dogs we may find along the way and begin what can only be characterized as a barking competition. We had to work really hard at this one, but he’s finally doing much better. I no longer have to worry about those embarrassing moments where I have to look awkwardly at the other dog owner and apologize for my dog’s behavior. I was so proud today, when we walked by a German shepherd who began growling at my dog, Kai, and he barely even glanced at him. This time I was receiving the apologetic glance from the other owner! If they only knew how relieved I was that it wasn’t my dog inciting a riot. I digress, though.
Ok, so there is this one particular spot in the neighborhood, which is usually a source of anxiety for me along the walk. It is part of my walking route because I like the wide sidewalks that start at that particular spot—they are well lit and often give me and Kai the room we need if we need to pass other neighbors that are also out for a stroll. This spot is near a retention pond, and whenever we get to that corner, and for no apparent reason, my very loving dog will rebel against me. He doesn’t always do it, so this is a random occurrence. But when he does, he will stop dead on his tracks, look at me with defying eyes, and dig his heels. No matter what I do, he won’t budge. I’ve tried to bribe him with cheese, which is his favorite, but he won’t move. I have tried pulling on his leash, and have practically dragged him, but he will become stubborn with me, and will roll over on his back, as if to say, “If you want me to go with you, you will have to kill me first!” I’ve gotten so mad at him because of this, had to pick him up, and walk with him in my arms until we got passed that spot, just to show him that “he’s not the boss; I am.” Or gotten so mad, that I’ve given up, and cut my walk short, turned around and gone back home (which he was happy to do). His tail wagging in front of me as to say, “na, na, na, na, na, na ... I won!” So frustrating!
How many times have we seen this happen in our every day lives? Mom’s making their children do something “because I told you so.” Kid going, “But MOM! I don’t want to! Do I have to?!”
Or later in life, as adults, feeling like we have to do something, not because we truly want to do it. But because we feel obligated to do it. Perhaps it is out of a sense of duty, responsibility, or worse, because we got quilted or manipulated into it.
If you’ve ever been in those situations, you know you don’t “feel good” doing whatever it is that you are doing. In the end, you may even resent it. Perhaps you find yourself bringing it up in a fight later ... “Remember the time that ... I did that for YOU! I didn’t want to do it, but I did it, and where did that get me? I’ll tell you where ... nowhere!”
