Man’s Best Friend?
As a cat person, I don't always understand or appreciate the canine "love and loyalty" thing. I value love, of course, but having it bound to loyalty feels like too high a price. Until a couple of years ago, it never occurred to me to question why. Then my husband, Mark, made an unexpected friend.
The Samana Peninsula of the Dominican Republic is filled with friendly, apparently homeless, dogs. They seem to be community dogs, cared for by the villages, rather than an individual. So, how does the loyalty piece come in?
One day, Mark went for a morning walk along the beach, and came home with a big, four-legged companion. The dog seemed nice enough. He readily drank the water Mark gave him, enjoyed the leftovers offered, and spent the day snoozing on our porch.
He kept a close eye on Mark - determined to be a loyal friend. How do I know?
Late in the afternoon, we strolled down to the beach for an ocean swim. The dog came, too, always by Mark's side or just ahead of us. En route, we passed a field where two horses and a donkey hang out. I brought my camera to take a few photos, and in the time it took to pause and shoot the horses, Mark's dog bounded up to one of the beasts barking ceaselessly. The act, both absurd and curious, left us puzzled.
The horse got annoyed enough to give the dog a kick (I'm assuming it was a gentle kick, because other than the initial whimper, the dog seemed fine). Still, the dog didn't relinquish his guard duty, until we moved on. Then, he ran back to Mark, and resumed his watch.
About 50 paces later, another dog joined us. Clearly a friend of the first dog, Mark's dog insisted that the friend stay outside of the inner circle. Only the original mutt was allowed to be beside Mark. This is a little strange, right? I mean, they just met earlier that day. This is SO not cat behavior!
(the shadow under the horse is the barking dog)
When we finally arrived at the beach, the dogs roamed as we meandered at the water's edge. Kind of sweet, right up until the dog yelped his head off about Mark entering the water. The pup woofed and paced the water line, until his new human came out again. When Mark, wrapped in his towel to dry off, stood by the water to absorb the fading sunshine and rinse his feet, the dog jumped on Mark's back several times, leaving long red welts from those thick doggie nails.
The clear message: I can't stand for you to go where I can't protect you!
It struck me like a lightning bolt, this is NOT loyalty. This is canine caretaking. While nauseating, we all do it. We take an action that looks like it is in the service of another, but is actually designed to protect us in some way. If we lie about why we don't want to go to that awful concert, we won't hurt the feelings of the person inviting us. If we don't tell our loved ones about our recent medical diagnosis, they won't worry. Or if we step in to try to fix a potential problem for our children, before it even has the chance to happen, we fend off danger and sadness - right?
Here's the problem: all of these actions are self-serving and dishonest. And, I'm not just talking about the dishonesty with the people we are caretaking; we fail to tell ourselves the truth because it's uncomfortable. In each situation, we attempt to avoid feeling things we don't want to feel.
Ugh...it's a mess, and worse, it pisses off the people we say we are trying to care for. It's just like the dog jumping on my husband. On some level, he feared losing Mark, so he put himself between Mark and horse (when there was no threat whatsoever), and the dog got kicked. Then he put himself between Mark and the other dog, limiting the amount of playfulness possible between the pups. And finally, he disturbed our time in the water with that incessant barking, followed by Mark's back getting some ugly red welts. Not only was Mark not protected, he got a little bit hurt.
When we practice caretaking, we do the same. We unconsciously hurt those we love, and we sabotage our own self-trust, by trying to anticipate and defend against an undesirable outcome.
For some reason, I've been sitting on this story for about 18 months. Even though I got the message immediately, and felt it important to share at some point, the prose never came forth until now. Perhaps because, after a three year hiatus, I've just scheduled a Why Do We Lie?! one-day workshop, so the topic is timely.
If you'd like to learn more about caretaking, and what alternatives you might practice to shift from caretaking to caregiving (which is a true act of love) join me on October 25th.
Just to wrap up the story - when we went to dinner that night, the dog tried to jump in the car with us. When refused entry, he watched Mark longingly, as we drove away. We never saw him again. Maybe that kind of loyalty just doesn't pay off, eh?
With love and care,
Joanne Lutz