Mornings with Dolly: Straining the Leash

Dolly’s leash is made of woven nylon, colored blue gray, and roughly 6 feet long. When we are walking, this is her lifeline. When a car approaches, or we walk by another dog, I grip the middle of the leash and keep her close at my side as far away from any harm as I can.

Now Dolly is not one of those trained to heal kind of dogs. She is more of a pull as far as I can on the leash until I am strained in my breathing kind of dogs. I don’t know that I can properly put into writing the sound she makes when she’s straining as she does, but its something like “hecccchhh, heccchhh, heccchhhh”.

So, this leash is her lifeline. Yet she wants more. If I were to let her go. Unleash her. She’d most likely take off (probably eventually come back when called) on some sort of dog adventure, maybe get struck by a car, beat up by a dog, eat a dead animal, or just simply have a blast until she decided to come back.

Freedom. Running care free. Running wreckless. Are there too many leashes in this world? Things which constrain us? Even things which keep us restrained from harm? Society has its fair share of leash needs. They are there to keep order. Parenting surely has its fair share of leash needs. But they are there to protect, coach and guide our kids to be unleashed. Faith has its fair share of leash requirements. But they are there to protect coach and guide ourselves to be unleashed.

Mornings with Dolly: Unashamed Pooping

Dogs seem to have the innate ability to poop in public. Dolly is no exception. Her preference however is to find some nice tall grass amid which to do her doodie....err...duty. Not only is this on any given public road or property, but under the direct surveillance of their master, or in my case, their walker.

I wish to a degree that I didn’t care as much about where I pooped. In the figurative sense. I mean, this is a very personal experience. In some cases ashamed, dependent upon a previous day’s diet. I digress....back to the figurative sense. We really care too much about others seeing us in our vulnerable state of beings. Donald Miller has written in many cases about how Adam and Eve walked around, pre-fall, naked and unashamed. When they had to poop, they probably did as Dolly. Perhaps amid some taller grass. Perhaps not.

I want to be able to figuratively poop unashamedly. To not care too much. Certainly there are times where discretion is appropriate when dropping a figurative number 2. But I am encouraged to open up a bit more. To figuratively walk clotheless, and drop a big deuce when I am so inclined.

Mornings with Dolly: The Alarm Thwap

So my wife and two boys are sharing a room in a house full of the extended Fossum family. The Rick Fossums are in four twin beds in a long narrow room. Sort of like I’d picture in some sort of sea vessel. There is no door to the room. My first morning with Dolly was started with the unwelcome entry of Dolly clacking down the wooden floor and nudging her snout into mine. I probably shushed her away to which her reply was simply turning her head from me and showcasing the unceasing thwap-thwap-thwap of her tail against the mattress. On some mornings, this would leave me irritated—it is vacation after all, and it is only ten to six in the morning, for gosh sakes. But for some reason, this was a welcome sound.

Now I think I heard a comedian one time talking about dogs and the fact that they have no concept of time. And that they are as happy to see you if you’ve left for 1 minute, or a day—they are always SO happy to see you. There is an unbridled joy to a dog. And Dolly clearly was sharing hers with me via her tail thwap. So I went downstairs with Dolly with the dog walk in mind.

As I was sitting in a chair and lacing up my shoes, Dolly was tearing around the house excited to be up, excited to have people up, and excited to be a dog. My sister-in-law descended the stairs and non chalantly said good morning to Dolly. Now I was thinking that she’d have been something like “DOLLY, calm down!”, but she wasn’t. She immediately found understanding and pleasure in Dolly being a dog. I gotta admit, I found that quite cool. Too often we course correct things which may not need it, or even by nature, allow it*.

Dolly IS a dog. And a very excited and happy dog in the morning. Perhaps thrilled to go take a pee, but equally as thrilled to be awake and alive. I wanna see the morning like Dolly does. I wanna thwap my tail upon awaking.

*Clearly there is a time and place for course correction for both dogs as well as folks, but all to often we are critical and correcting when patience and understanding is what is required.

Mornings with Dolly: An Introduction

So I am on vacation with the family and have left the heat of Atlanta for the cool breeze (at the moment) of the Maine coast and Bailey Island. Now Bailey Island is a wonderful sleepy lobster fishing village where I’ve vacationed since I was a child. I figured this would be a great place for some deep thought and some unique inspirations for me to think and write about. Well, its taken a while for me to find a launching point. Perhaps the first few days were solely intended to encompass good family time, conversations, and certainly some cold beer.

Little did I know that amid all of God’s splendor of the “Down East” Maine coastline, my inspiration would come from a medium-sized, floppy eared, black mutt named Dolly. Perhaps I need to give a nod to Donald Miller’s recent blog postings from his own dog, but we really can’t target some of our sources of inspiration, and if it happens to come from an animal who takes an unabashed shit while you stand and wait, so be it.

So I’ve decided to create a few postings drawn from my morning walks with my brothers dog, Dolly.

Now my wife and I are dog people, and my boys certainly would like to be. But I have confirmed something as to my household and dogs. While on vacation getting up and going for an hour-long walk across an island is quite nice, regardless of how early you get started. However, a cold rainy Monday morning when you need to get to the office is another story. I love dogs. We just don’t own one. So this brief stint at dogging it is fun, but will most likely leave the conversation as we exit off the island in a week or so.

Gone Fishing

Pelotons

According to Wikipedia, a peloton is "a field, bunch or pack...the large main group of riders in a road bicycle race. Riders in a group save energy by riding close (drafting or slipstreaming) near (particularly behind) other riders. The reduction in drag is dramatic; in the middle of a well-developed group it can be as much as 40%."

I heard mentioned once the concept of spiritual pelotons. We all should ensure we have at least one peloton in our lives. Groups of folks who we take the life race/ride alongside who serve as teammates. People we ride closely with who can work together to "reduced the drag" in life. As per the above definition can reduce life's drag by as much as 40%. Imagine that. I can think back on many times where I could have used a drastic reduction on the headwind in my life.

I assume much of the benefit of the peloton is derived from a self-awareness and a selfless awareness:

• A self-awareness to recognize when I might be in need of rest (whatever that might look like). In addition, we also need to be transparent and prideless enough to allow this to happen. Sometimes a "buck up" approach is not the answer, and a willingness to say "help" is what is needed.
• A selfless awareness to ensure I am in tune with the other members of my peloton. To understand when I should take the lead and provide a draft to take on the headwind for another.

Within the peloton, "Teams generally attempt to cluster their members... in order to maximize their ability to affect the pack as a whole." Life throws too much at us to go it alone. If there are opportunities to "maximize the affect of the pack", we should grab them*.


*Of course the maximization of a bad thing is not good. I recall Bill Cosby in a stand up bit say something like "I was talking to a friend who did cocaine 'cause it 'intensified his personality' to which I replied, 'what if you're an asshole.". Obviously we need to be careful as to our peloton choices.

Act Your Age

I don't know how long ago C.S. Lewis lived and when specifically he wrote things, but I am constantly challenged and enlivened by some of his work. I follow a Twitter account which provides daily tweets (gosh what would C.S. think about his work being tweeted). A little while ago, this caught me both as genius and incredibly joyful. It read as follows:

"When I became a man, I put away foolish things including the fear of childishness & the desire to be grown-up"