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LUCKY SHOWED ME A NEW APPROACH
TO GIVING
By
Jeannette House
I have a habit when I'm feeling weak due
to my illness, to ask my black Lab retriever Lucky to do little tasks for me. Of
course, this is totally futile, but it amuses me to daydream that someday
he'll fulfill my requests. I ask him to get the mail out
of the mailbox at the end of the driveway or to bring the trash outside for
pickup. I regularly request that he get things from the house when
I'm in the garden.
One of my long-standing fantasies is that
the two of us will figure out a way for Lucky to shovel snow from the driveway.
This is an extremely difficult job and one that a strong
young animal, who loves doing ANYTHING in the snow, should enjoy.
As you can imagine, while this practice may be a great exercise
in imagination, the results are fairly predictable -- I never
get what I ask for.
What usually happens is that Lucky pokes
his nose where it doesn't belong and "retrieves" items he's not supposed
to have. With Lucky, fetch translates into dog language as keep-away.
Lucky has gotten quite good at determining the things that
I least want him to have. Uncapped pens, my glasses, furry
kitten toys, and dirty laundry, that he carries all over the house, are
some of his favorite items. I lecture him almost daily about how
these goodies are not appropriate for dogs, especially my glasses, which
really don't benefit from having a smear of dog saliva on the lenses.
One day while I sat on my second-story
deck, the wind blew my glasses off a table and down to the ground. I was
feeling very tired so, playing my fantasy game, I said, "Lucky, go
down and get my glasses." His intelligent eyes looked into
mine. He cocked his head; his ears perked up. (You all know
how cute they can be!) Then he looked at the ground with some puzzlement.
His gaze moved back and forth between my glasses and me.
I thought: It looks as if he's thinking about it; this dog
understands way more than I thought he did.
Suddenly he galloped down the stairs and
trotted to where the glasses were lying on the grass. Again, he looked quizzically
back and forth between the glasses and me. He knew
he wasn't supposed to pick them up, but I called down, "It's okay,
Lucky. Bring them here."
I knew this was another one of my silly
requests. Even if he did pick up the glasses, we'd have a game of keep- away,
and then I'd be in real trouble if he went into his hide-and-stash
routine. But given my physical state, the stairs were more than I
could handle. I somehow sensed that Lucky knew the difference
this time and I could trust him. Once again, I asked Lucky
to bring me the glasses. His big paw lashed out at them. (Oh
no!) Then he gently flipped over the glasses and picked them up by the
earpieces. He brought the glasses up the steps and dropped them at my
side. They were clean and dry.
While I wildly fondled this wonderful creature,
thanking him profusely, I received the distinct impression that he was
thinking: Well, what's the big deal? All you had to do was ask
for something that I was able to give. I love you and want to help
you!
Since this incident, I've found that my
approach to giving and receiving is very different than it used to be. I'm
learning that it's okay if I ask for help as long as I want something that
can be given. I'm learning that it's okay for people to ask
me for help, repeatedly, even when I can't provide what is necessary.
If I stay loving and generous, requests will come that I'm able to
meet.
Ever since my illness started a few years
ago, I've become increasingly frustrated that I've had to eliminate most of
the volunteering and helping others that I used to do. Lucky
has taught me to keep listening and be creative to find natural
ways to serve. This wonderful animal, by retrieving my glasses,
has opened a new world of opportunity for me. I will be
grateful forever.
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