A Property Dispute with My Dog

June 1, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

While picking up the piles on Saturday, I found Winston sitting in his usual hole surveying the property. As dogs go, he looked unusually forlorn. I put down my tools, walked over the old boy, and asked, “Why so glum?”

Expecting nothing, I was slightly surprised when he answered (in a wonderful British Accent), “I find myself in a state of loss.” 1024px-Lawns_at_Wisley

“Why’s that?” I pursued.

He turned his head to scan the horizon. “Have you ever gotten anything just right? I mean so perfect that you know there has never been, nor will ever be anything that quite equals your creation?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, contemplating my artistic endeavors. “I suppose that rocking horse I made was pretty good.”

“The one your child sits on?”

“Yeah, she rides it.”

“How do you feel when she rides it?” he inquired.

“I guess I feel good to see her use it.”

“So it delights you to have your progeny place her dirty bum upon your work of art?” he said haughtily.

“She wears clothes!” I countered.

“Not always,” he said knowingly, still looking away.

By this time, I began to grow angry and impatient. “What’s your point?” I stammered.

“I am simply trying to give you a point of reference for my mood. You asked. I spend a week arranging my work into the perfect array and you come out with your slotted spoon and shopping bag and destroy the lot,” he explained. “Just like you make a rocking horse and your daughter smears her jelly-stained fingers and dirty backside all over it.”

“That’s why you were licking it,” I realized.

“Just the handles,” he snapped.

“But this? This is just poo,” I observed, pointing to the bag.

“Just poo? Just poo?” He said indignantly. “I’ll have you know that it is a dog’s highest creation, perfectly placed to entice females and intimidate rivals! It is my art! My natural medium. Secondarily, they are little traps to keep your children and her filthy companions from wandering into my territory.”

“Your territory? This is my yard.”

“I disagree,” he said coldly.

“But I have a title to it,” I said, wondering if I would have to explain property laws to him, but guessing he knew more than me about them based on his superior tone.

“Your title is worthless in the natural world. I have pooped on it, therefore it is mine.”

We were at an impasse. I thought about solving this his way, but didn’t have to go at the moment and was slightly afraid of the neighbor’s reaction.

“Okay. Well…I’m gonna finish picking this stuff up,” I said as I returned to my chore.

“And I’m going to put more down,” he replied nonchalantly. “I’ve been saving one for when you finished your rounds.”

I paused and looked back over my shoulder. His smarmy grin ticked me off, but I didn’t have time to argue anymore. It was almost time for kick-off.

Photo Credit: David Wilmot from Wimbledon, United Kingdom (Flickr)

Back to the Scene of the Crime

March 27, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

On a beautiful Saturday recently, my daughter and I broke a rule or statute, I’m not sure which. I don’t think it was the law we broke, and I doubt there would have been a stiff penalty had we been caught. True confessions time – we took our dog, Winston to the dog park. Why is that a problem? Because Winston was banned from the local dog park a few years ago.

He’s a very friendly, yet stupid dog who has no spatial awareness and is completely unconcerned with the personal bubble of others – dog or human. The last time we took him there, a Weimaraner pup intrigued him. They chased each other around for a while until suddenly, the dog was gone. To the shock of the other owner, Winston had decided to use him as a chaise lounge. We ran toward him, screaming for him to get off. But he just cocked his head contentedly, unconcerned with us while seated on his comfy new chair.

The other owner just happened to be in charge of the dog park. Her dog was fine after we got our oaf off of him. But Winston’s picture went up on the dog equivalent of the post office wall as a canine non grata.

But on this day, with no other dog in the over 35 lb yard, we decided to let him in. He sniffed around, ran some, and paraded along the fence separating him from the little dogs. I guess he decided it wasn’t worth being where he wasn’t welcome because he peed on the bench then sat by the gate, ready to leave.

There are places I’ve let my feet wander in the past that I shouldn’t go back to. We are all tempted by something. Whether you are a believer or not, there are actions that are wrong and would cause injury to your health, family, or freedom if you undertook them. I know what tempts me. Fortunately, I have a little more self-control than I did as a young man.

I heard a pastor once say that our greatest weakness can be our curiosity. We know the line we won’t cross, and have a resolute desire to stay away. Yet too often, we draw the line and inch our toes as close as they can possibly be to it, lean in to see what is going on over there, and then act surprised when we fall into the same old sin and self-destructive behavior.

♦

What tempts you? What lines have you drawn and where are your feet? These are not questions to answer in the comments section, just something for you and I to think about as we navigate life’s dog park.

Good for Winston, he just peed on it and walked away. I pray I can treat my temptations with the same indifference.