bridging species – Bridging the Paradigms: re-connecting people and the planet

How a Company’s Raffle Prize Helped an Animal Shelter

September 13, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

On the weekend before the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show back in February I attended a pet writing conference in New York City, the day before I won the Merial Human-Animal Bond Award for my book, Bridging Species: Thoughts and Tales About Our Lives with Dogs. Yay!

It was a fun weekend and I met some fabulous people. Winning the Merial Award, a coveted prize in the dog writing world, plus a cash grant, was wonderful. The recognition for writing about new ways to think about the human-animal bond felt great.

I also got lucky and won a raffle prize from Hartz at the writing conference. A few weeks later this enormous gift basket arrived in the mail, full of Hartz treats, combs, brushes, a toothbrush, toys galore, and a wonderful note from Jennifer Dombkowski, Integrated Marketing Manager at The Hartz Mountain Corporation.

It was far more than my multi-species family could use, although these pictures prove that they were fascinated! And, yes, played with a toy or two.

The feature photo here is a shot of the complete gift basket at our vet’s office in Port Hadlock, WA, as the gift was on its way to the Jefferson County Animal Shelter. (My apologies to Hartz, as the gift arrived perfectly wrapped, but was inexpertly unwrapped and rewrapped by, you guessed it, me.)

Thanks to Hartz’s generosity at a pet writing conference in New York, a group of homeless dogs and cats in rural western Washington had some fine treats and toys. Jefferson County’s animals have taken a hit with the tough economy, and this briefly helped.

Every time you think that a nice gesture doesn’t count, think about what tossing a business card into a raffle basket can do for an animal near you. Yep, a nice advertising plug for a company, and a good benefit to some needy animals.

Awesome and forever, two of my favorite words.

How Mall Dogs Trump Wolves

August 31, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Survival of the fittest isn’t what you think it is. It depends on who you are and what you’re up to.

I personally would not survive if I were a wolf and had to run down an elk or a rat. I wouldn’t even want to (either survive or hunt down anything but a cherry pie). It’s icky and it’s just not me.

Plus, I know there’s an easier way to make a living. I see my dogs do it every day.

The call of the wild wolf doesn’t appeal to my dogs. They’re Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. People make fun of Cavaliers, saying things like they’re too cute to be taken seriously and not smart enough to take care of themselves.

Truth is, my Cavaliers are evolved. They may be descended from wolves, but they take their lifestyle seriously, living well choreographed, strategically planned lives that get straight to what it takes to survive modern times.

They’re mall dogs.

It doesn’t just take breeding to be a mall dog. It takes class and moxie.

You don’t hunt down anything. You act so cool it comes to you.

You don’t actually work at anything. You just assume whatever it is you want will magically appear.

It never occurs to a mall dog that there are obstacles in life. They see everything as an opportunity, some better ones than others.

Mall dogs are extroverts. My dogs, Murphy and Alki, have made that an art form. They work every opportunity, even when it isn’t one. Their philosophy is to go for it boldly, where, possibly, other dogs have rarely gone before.

Like brand new, isolated hotels that really only cater to humans.

I learned that at Christmas last year. We’d driven north from Seattle to meet a good friend from Portland we rarely get to see. The dogs hadn’t exactly been invited, but that didn’t occur to me until all three of us were out of the car, staring at the brand spanking new hotel, with its sweeping driveway, wide plant-lined entrance, and a red carpet leading straight through two large sweeping doors. As Hollywoody as it gets in north Seattle.

I was suddenly intimidated. My mall dogs were not: they were surveying their new kingdom.

I gulped. “Ah, guys,” I said, “I’m not really sure dogs are allowed here.”

They looked at me like I was a Martian, then eyeballed the doors. I may not be sure we’re always welcome in certain places, but that thought never occurs to them, unless I bring it up, which I was then doing, but they didn’t believe me, so it was pointless.

They faced the doors, evaluating the situation. Then they threw their heads up and sashayed forward, tails swishing like capes. They were in charge as only mall dogs can be: they know how to make an entrance, and they flirt their way through obstacles.

I’m easily amused. I followed their lead.

As they pranced into the pristine, high-ceilinged hotel lobby, guests and hotel clerks looked up. Gasped.

The dogs stopped and surveyed the crowd, huge grins on their adorable Cavalier faces. The gasps dissolved into giggles. Just like that, any rules we may have broken didn’t matter. The celebrity mall dogs had arrived.

Unfortunately, our friend wasn’t there. We hung out in the lobby like we belonged, the dogs winking at guests, who continued to giggle when they weren’t playing with them. Murphy and Alki monitored the doors, but ignored everyone who came through. Until our friend finally walked in.

Now, what would a wolf do in that situation, or an elk? My mall dogs barked their heads off as they bounced down the lobby and threw themselves in our friend’s arms.

More human giggling ensued. No one yelled at us, but why would they? The dogs had enthralled them (much easier than hunting). We marched to our friend’s room, had a great visit, and left in the same high-falutin’ style that we’d entered. Except this time people waved cheerily at us and invited us back.

You don’t hear about elk or rats (or people) inviting wolves back to their territory.

That’s why you have to define things like survival of the fittest. Survival depends on who you are and what the circumstances are, a good thing, because my dogs wouldn’t survive on their hunting skills.

They don’t need to. They’ve trumped hunting skills with self-confidence. It’s survival of the fittest for mall dogs.

Worshipping at the Altar of Rimadyl

August 19, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

My eldest dog, Murphy, a female Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, is 13. We never expected her to make it to 3, but she’s vibrant and healthy.

It took a lot to get her that way. Some of her problems were inherited, some medical mistakes, some the normal up’s and down’s of life.

Murphy’s health took choice. Rimadyl is one of those choices.

I had to learn a lot about veterinary care to take care of Murphy. And a lot about human medical care to take care of myself. Our journey together has been enlightening: it was a journey to shared wellness, to a new way of living with animals and of creating community with all life.

In my multi-species family I’m the only human. I live with two Cavaliers, Murphy and her almost 10-year-old brother, Alki, and their 8-year-old sister, Grace the Cat.

They’re my family. I’m not their guardian. Or caretaker. Or mother. They are my kids in that I’ve made myself the boss of the family (so I drive the car and buy and prepare meals and make the final choice on family issues). They are my family. We are living the human-animal bond.

My family has a say in their care, including medical care. Coming to an understanding of what they wanted, of how to explain things to them, of how to accept their choices, of how those choices play out in family dynamics—all of that took patience, thought, education, intuition, and my commitment to participating in a world where creating equal community with all life means all beings have choice, responsibility, and free will.

It included really living what I mean when I say that members of a multi-species family are equals.

Murphy has been through a lot. When degenerative arthritis reared up two years ago, I thought we might be at the end of our journey together. We had a deal: no more of anything that would prolong a life that involved chronic pain and disability.

I’ve been living that personal issue for over 20 years. Murphy’s lived it for 13 now. There’s a time to say enough.

And a time to find the right answers. For that family member. For that time.

When Murphy suddenly contorted in excruciating pain on a Sunday in summer 2009, I pulled out every medical remedy I had. We’ve used a lot over the years: from prescription drugs to Ayurvedic herbs, Chinese herbs, massage, chiropractic, supplements, acupuncture, energy work, acutonics, and animal communication. That Sunday I had leftovers of several things. I made myself calm down, closed my eyes, asked for the right remedy to show up, and picked up a bottle.

It was Rimadyl. I immediately started her on it.

Over the next few days, after extensive criminally bad emergency veterinary care, we ended up right where we were on Sunday: using Rimadyl.

Since then, we’ve added several things to the mix. And we’re still using Rimadyl.

Rimadyl works for Murphy. The other remedies we tried did not. The ‘natural, holistic’ remedies are great, including milk thistle, which Murphy takes to support her liver. But for her, in this time and place, Rimadyl works. I swear by it. I, frankly, worship at the altar of Rimadyl.

Here’s the interesting thing. So many people, interested in Murphy’s care and in our family, have generously offered their opinion on what we should be doing instead. Granted, many of us do not look at alternatives, so we immediately go for the easy fixes, like antibiotics and prescription drugs. But these people have acted as if I am doing something terrible by using a prescription drug.

Yes, Rimadyl can have side effects. Murphy has not had any. She did have side effects from the other things we tried, and some of them plain did not work. The truth? Everything has side effects, even the ‘alternatives.’ What matters is the side effects for that particular animal. What matters is: what are the consequences, and what is the choice?

There are people in the alternative community, from holistic vets to energy workers, who apologize when they use a prescription drug, as if the only choice is something else. They are as short-sighted as the vets who only use prescription drugs. Why can’t these people all get together and support healthy, responsible choice? Eastern and Western medicine can combine to create healthy families. I know. My family is proof.

Ditch your prejudices and use what works. It’s a trial and error process, no question. It requires educated vets, and there really aren’t a lot of them out there these days. It requires educated families, and there aren’t a lot of them, either. It requires weighing the risks and benefits. It requires informed choice.

The politics of care and the realities of care are different. Be proactive. Do the research. Find a good vet. Ask your animal members what they want. Honor their request. Use what works. Monitor it.

Frankly, I appreciate the people who suggest alternatives to Rimadyl. I do not appreciate their insistence that I am doing something wrong by not using something they think is safer or better. I do not appreciate their contempt for my choice, and for Murphy’s.

What did Murphy want? Whatever made her feel good. She deserves no less. Our family deserves no less.

And that’s what she gets. Rimadyl. Every day I am grateful that Rimadyl is out there. That when I asked for help it was there that Sunday, stepping forward to add itself to the mix that creates a healthy family. If Rimadyl, or any remedy, makes Murphy comfortable, we’re happy. If somehow her life is shorter because we chose that drug, then so be it. We have consciously chosen quality over quantity. We chose what works.

The truth is, any remedy can shorten a life, but not every remedy can improve it. And what works for one family member may not work for another. That’s where vigilance and common sense enter the mix.

Every day I live with a dog whose vibrancy at 13 astounds people. Rimadyl helped make that. I am grateful. It is our choice.

Don’t make choices, for or against any treatment, based on prejudice. Choose what works.

We have. Two years on, we’re still worshipping at the altar of Rimadyl. Respecting choice. Living healthy balanced lives.

What is your choice? What does your animal family choose? Have you asked?

Note: I do not receive any compensation from anyone, including the makers of Rimadyl. I just give my opinion. It’s free.

It’s Called Trespassing: Quit Ruining the World for Dogs

August 12, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

It was a summer evening and the dogs and I were out for last call. A man and woman at the end of the block were standing next to the waist-high wall that bordered my neighbor’s steep property.

It’s unusual but not alarming to see strangers lingering in our busy beach neighborhood at night. However, I’ve learned street smarts from my terminally friendly but discerning Cavaliers, so I stopped, even though we were fully two lots away from them.

Then I saw that the woman was holding a dog leash above the neighbor’s wall: what the heck? No dog could top that wall: the couple must have lifted their dog over it. Wow. They were literally going out of the way to let their dog loose on private property. When they spotted us, they moved in to restrain their dog.

I stopped, pulling my dogs close.

“Just to let you know,” the woman said. “We have our dog up here.”

Really?

“My dog’s eating grass,” she explained.

What?

So, okay, two things.

First, if you have to warn me that your dog is with you, you mean that you both are a threat to me and my dogs, so stay the hell home. It’s people like you with unsafe dogs who’ve made it necessary for people like me to carry dog deterrent spray. It’s legal, I know how to use it, and I will. So your dog may not be safe, but guess what? Since my youngest dog got mauled, I’m not safe, either. If your dog rushes mine it will get a face full and you’ll get a hefty fine from animal control and a notch on their watch list.

Second, do you understand the terms ‘private property’ and ‘trespassing’?

We’re still civilized in Seattle, which means that you can’t walk your dog on the property holder’s side of the sidewalk. You can’t walk yourself there, either. Or pee, or poop, or trample the landscape, or eat the grass.

It’s called trespassing. It’s illegal. It’s destruction of private property. It’s plain and simple rude.

Not willing to obey the law? Then read up on manners. Did you not have a mother?

I stood there that night, my dogs quietly by my side, and I said to the woman, “You’re on private property.”

“Our dog’s eating grass,” she said, like that was a reasonable explanation.

Unlike many dog walkers, who pay no attention to where their dogs are walking, she was actually lifting hers up so it could forage on my neighbor’s property. She was aiding and abetting.

Un. Be. Lieve. Able.

“It’s called trespassing,” I said, turning my dogs around and heading home.

“He’s just eating grass,” she yelled.

“It’s trespassing,” I said, emphasizing each syllable so the sarcasm and disapproval were clear.

“You give dog owners a bad name,” I said as I left.

Do you? If you let your dog set a foot or a drop of pee on private property, you’re rude. You’re also a criminal. And so is your dog.

The rest of us who are responsible dog owners deserve better. So do our dogs.

The saddest thing? Your dog deserves better. Clearly somebody better than you.

Why MY Dogs Aren’t Spoiled–MY Cat Ain’t, Either

August 3, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Amazing the number of people who scowl and tell me I’m spoiling my animal family.

It flummoxes me. These people, ‘the complainers,’ don’t just turn up their noses at me and my kids. They’re rude about disapproving of people (like me) who treat our animal family as something more than discardable toys, and in public no less.

I’m spoiling my family? Huh. Actually, I’m taking care of them. Like equals.

My eldest dog is cold a lot, so she wears a fleece jacket, indoors and out, during the cool months (a lot of those in Seattle). My younger dog prefers to be cool. The dogs and cat are safely constrained on car trips. They all get quality food and pure water. Cool toys and treats. Clean groomed bodies and comfy beds (often mine). Love and attention. An interesting, stimulating environment. Consideration for their bodies, their minds, their souls.

‘The complainers’ act like ‘spoiling’ is a dirty word. Like the ‘spoilers’ are guilty of some horrible offense.

Like it’s any of their business. Like they have a clue about how to really behave in the world.

So let me tell you. And them.

Treating everyone, human or animal, respectfully as equals is how the world goes from okay to fabulous. It’s how we create a happy balanced planet.

Starting by really getting it that everyone, and everything, has feelings. We can make others, including animals, happy or fearful by how we treat them.

My animal family gets treated as family, as beings who deserve to be respected, made comfortable and pleased. As equals. So what that they’re not human? What matters is that compassion, consideration, attention, and just plain fun aren’t reserved for humans. That we all have space to be animals, and humans, together. Without judgment.

What matters is that we’ve created a family that works for us, that together we’re safe, nurtured, and loved. That we give each other the best chance to be our best, whatever that is. That we pay attention to each other’s needs and interests. Isn’t that common courtesy? Compassion in action? Respect?

If that’s ‘spoiling,’ then let there be spoiling in a world that badly needs it! Starting with the people who don’t get it!

So you frowners and complainers, I hope you don’t have animals in your household. Or, maybe, other humans. Because when I hear you say ‘spoiled’ it sounds like you’re caught in that loop of wearing hair shirts with your perpetual frowns, of suffering through life instead of enjoying it, of making life miserable because it’s somehow supposed to be. Of disrespecting yourselves while you’re disrespecting others. Of not really caring about anything, or anyone, around you as much as you care about your narrow-minded viewpoint. It’s sad, and pointless.

Does minding my business for me make yours that much easier? I hope not!

At our house, everybody’s equal. We learn new things about each other every day. It isn’t always fun, but it’s always worth it. We try to model our respect and compassion in the world. Even for ‘the complainers.’

My dogs, my cat, they ain’t spoiled. They’re respected.

‘Spoiling’ is a dirty word, the way the complainers use it. So don’t. Try a little respect on yourself. You just might find that ‘spoiling’ is word, and a mindset, you’re better off without. The rest of us sure are.

Grace the Cat’s Tail

July 30, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

We live in a small condo: just me, two Cavalier spaniels (Murphy and Alki), and Grace the Cat. Well, okay, let’s include my crystal partner, Fallon, and Raymond, a fifty-something jade tree who spreads out like an oak.

Yes, our condo is small. Still, it’s plenty of room for my head and Grace the Cat’s tail to be in two separate places at the same time.

So why aren’t they always?

Granted, my animal family and I are close. They all spend time in my lap, and we cuddle as often as we can. But there’s that peculiar cat tail.

Grace lounges on the back of my chair, defying both gravity and my opinion. She’s a small cat (her tail is long, 10 inches long), but she has a distinct knack for putting it in the exact spot of the chair where the back of my head hits. And she won’t move it.

There’s no other place for my head. It belongs in the center of the chair. If I sit straight it’s the only place my head goes. I know, I’ve tried to accommodate Grace’s tail, but I can’t. And won’t.

Yes, I move Grace’s tail out of the way so I can put my head in that spot. But the tail moves. A lot. Even when Grace doesn’t. Her tail will flop on my head, or whack my head, or poke my ear, all while Grace herself is busy pretending she’s busy doing something else. Grace simply doesn’t move, but, then, why should she? Her tail does all the work.

When I get tired of this, I move my head to turn around and complain. You guessed it. When I settle back in, Grace’s tail is back in the spot where my head belongs. We collide.

Is this a weird physics thing? Or plain dumb luck?

Oh, wait, I know! My cat has an attitude. Everybody knows that about cats.

It can’t be me.

When Animal Communication Bites

July 23, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Have you always wanted to talk with an animal? And hear it talk back?

It’s easy. Just do it. But be polite, or you’ll find out, like I did, that animal communication can bite.

Just like talking with any being out there, from a tree to a hurricane, animal communication is about respecting all life as equals. That means listening to what each being has to say. And being respectful in our interactions.

Sometimes you talk with other beings, like animals, to learn simple things, like what an animal thinks about airplane travel. Or what kind of outing it would like (chasing squirrels, sunbathing, eating pizza have all come up when I’ve asked my dogs what they’d like to do). Quite often my work is talking with other beings about their life’s work, which can be stunning, as it turns out there are jobs out there that most humans can’t even imagine, jobs that other beings, like our dogs and cats, take for granted.

Sometimes when you talk with animals you get what you really haven’t been looking for, like a lesson in good manners. That bites. And it should.

The other day I was looking at my eldest Cavalier, Murphy. She had just turned 13 and was happily munching a birthday blueberry pie. I noticed she was a bit heavy, which isn’t normal for her. She had been eating a lot lately. So had I.

I said, “Wow, Murphy, you’ve gotten a little chunky.”

She promptly shot back, “Well, I’m not as fat as you!” She was loud, annoyed, amused, honest: her usual straightforward self. Oh, and right.

Ouch! Okay then! A lesson in manners from my dog!

The truth is, we seldom treat other people as respectfully as we should. Despite our best intentions, we often offer even less respect to our animal companions. Sometimes we’re just not thinking about what we’re saying or about whose feelings we’re hurting. Sometimes it just doesn’t occur to us to treat our animals as equals who expect politeness, just like we do. Sometimes we just forget good manners between species.

I should know better. Actually, I do.

I apologized to Murphy for being rude and unthinking.

A few days later, I was bathing Grace the Cat, not our favorite household task. I was noticing that Grace had gained weight, and I said, “Grace, you’ve gotten chunky.”

Already annoyed because she was wet and soapy, Grace snarled back: “Didn’t you just learn that lesson from Murphy?”

Ouch again. “Yes,” I said, chagrined. “My apologies.”

Whoever you talk with, but especially when you’re talking between species, mind your manners. If you’re talking, you should be listening. And thinking about what you’re saying before you say it.

Because animal communication can bite.

Have you said something rude to an animal lately? Did you apologize?

We’re Cat’s Eye Writer’s First Guest Writer

July 13, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

I was Cat’s Eye Writer’s first guest poster!

Judy Dunn is Cat’s Eye Writer. Back in June she ran a contest looking for her first guest poster. I decided to join in the fun and won, even though Judy writes about blogging (and she’s an expert, so check her out). It was a great experience for me, an opportunity to expand the reach of my emerging magazine, Bridging the Paradigms, and also to simply connect with people who value both their animal families and the possibilities of looking at the world in a slightly tweaked way.

It was also fun, and that’s something we go for as frequently as possible here at Alchemy West. Unfortunately, a lot of not so fun things interfered with me getting this post up: the little things like major computer failure followed by the domino effect (don’t ask how many things can go wrong at once, it might come your way, and you don’t want that). But we are at last back to work!

Bridging the Paradigms is about creating community with all life, from our animals to our homes, businesses, and the land around us.

As I continue to build community through my work, I am thrilled to meet people like Judy Dunn: smart, talented, honest, and community-minded. That makes Judy and her business one of “The Likables”: people and businesses who make a difference in the world by being the best they can be, and create community by example.

Judy Dunn is a blogger, content marketing specialist and author of “The Guide to Showing Up Online.” Her blog, Cat’s Eye Writer, is on the alltop.com list of best blogs and a winner of a 2011 Top 10 Blogs for Writers. She writes there about how people can attract more online visitors with compelling copy, a true voice and smart social media strategies. Follow her on Twitter at @CatsEyeWriter.

So check out my post at Judy’s blog on creating rituals with animals.

And then check out the following week, where Judy hosted three other writers. And then, well, keep up with what Judy’s writing about. It works.

Thank you, Judy!

What Do Animal Communicators Really Do?

June 16, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

There are so many people doing animal communication that they’ve begun to specialize. I don’t do animal communication exclusively. I communicate with all life, from animals to businesses, homes, and nature, including wild/domestic land and weather systems.

Essentially, animal communicators help us telepathically connect with animals, by hearing or seeing them or experiencing their feelings. I use whatever telepathic line works for a particular family or animal, including intuition.

Working with Families

I work with families to deepen their relationships with animals by creating multi-species families with them. And I work with wild animals as well, because two of the beings I work with at Alchemy West are deceased wild animals (Raymond the bear and Ralph the deer). Family conversations cover the gamut, from fun and inspiring family harmony sessions to easing transitions.

Looking at Medical and Behavior Issues
I’ve certainly learned a lot about animal health and behavioral issues over the years. I can help people look at these issues and give you some ideas to take to your vet for further exploration. I also recommend reading a lot and working closely with a trusted vet and animal behaviorist. I listen closely to both animals and people. Because we don’t always hear our animals as clearly as we would like, I tend to address what the animal would like its family to know.

For example, if you think your cat is peeing in the house, clean it up and consider things like cleanliness and medical issues that require veterinary care. You might want me to ask the cat about why it’s peeing, but your cat may really want to discuss something else. I will focus on what the cat has to say. Why? Because I can hear it, and that’s really why you came to me in the first place. Or to anyone who works as an animal communicator. Hearing what your animals really want to say to you can make a huge difference on family dynamics.

Helping Lost Animals Find Home

I also help find lost animals, which does not always mean they come home like we would wish. Sometimes they move on to other families, by choice or by accident. Sometimes they die. Sometimes we never find out.

One time it took me six days to get a lost dog to decide whether she was going to submit to animal control and come home. She had bitten an animal control officer and had run off. It was the officer’s fault, not hers, and it took me a long time to get her to understand, and believe, that she was not in trouble. But we had another complication: she was lost in deep snow and her life was at stake.

She wouldn’t talk with me but I knew she could hear me. So I told her how to stay safe while she decided whether to come home. I could also see and describe the place she was hiding, so I also told her I was telling the searchers where to look, because she was loved, wanted, and literally too upset to think straight. I don’t generally interfere in an animal’s choice like that; in this case, I knew she was listening and wanted to come home but wasn’t sure if she could, or would. So I pushed the issue a bit.

The searchers did find her hiding spot exactly as I saw it, but she ran when they saw her, even though she listened to me when I told her to show herself, and where.

By this time I had no doubts that we had a frightened dog who wanted to come home but was too afraid to go to the people who were trying to help her. What else could I do?

The weather made up my mind for me. Another snowstorm moved into the area, one I knew she had little chance of surviving. Even though it had been six days and she had not spoken to me, I told her it was “do or die,” she simply had to choose. Come home or die.

Her response? “I want chicken,” she declared. “Chicken McNuggets.”

When you hear something bizarre like that, you have to know you actually did hear it. What a unique idea for a McDonald’s’ ad!

“I don’t bargain,” I said, trying not to laugh. “But I will tell your people that you want Chicken McNuggets.”

Shortly after that she quietly surrendered to animal control. And, sure enough, there was a McDonald’s nearby. The lost dog was happily reunited with her family. And on the way home they loaded up on Chicken McNuggets.

The thing I take away from this is that we all need to be patient and persistent. And to listen to what our animals have to say. We compromise to be in families. That’s just how it is. In working with families and lost animals, the discussion about what is going on and why is often a part of it.

Whether you’re convinced that animal communication is real or not, what one question would you ask a favorite animal? And what do you think it would say?

Lending a Hand … or a Leash

June 15, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Hero Dog Alki

I’m clumsy. I survive by assuming everybody else is, too.

Despite the obvious (and frequently embarrassing) hazards, it’s a pretty good way to live. Really.

Don’t take me wrong. Injuries, hurt feelings, creepy people and events: not into them. But I am into building community, and for me that can sometimes mean being clumsy.

Lending a Hand

One afternoon I was on the beach access ramp with my dogs. Tree-sized driftwood blocked the ramp, so the woman walking towards us carrying a baby had a difficult climb.

What would a clumsy person do? I stopped and offered her my hand.

She politely refused, but as she climbed up on the log, it rolled and threw her off balance. As I reached for her, she clutched the baby tightly in one arm and held out the other, saying, “I’ll take that hand.”

In a few seconds both were safely on the ramp.

Lending a Leash

Several weeks later I was out alone with my younger dog, Alki, who has recently become deaf. Alki has understandably been emotional, cranky, and skittish about becoming deaf, especially with other dogs.

That day, a loose dog ran up to us, a dog I thought might live nearby. Now any dog can be dangerous, especially a strange one. Plus Alki was once mauled, and I was injured saving him while beating the crap out of the attacking dog (fierce mama, that’s me). So I hesitated.

What would a clumsy person do? I stopped to help the dog.

I called it to us, making sure it kept its distance but stayed with us (and out of the street). While I was calm and cheerful, I closely watched both dogs. As the loose dog warily regarded us, Alki visibly braced himself, gently greeted the dog, then quietly and calmly helped me herd it. When the dog stopped to sniff something, we waited. When it wandered away, Alki urged it back with a head shake that could only mean, “Follow us, buddy.”

Eventually we got down the block, and two neighbors out with their dog stopped to help. The wandering dog was soon reunited with its family.

The point? Oddly, being clumsy works.

We can worry that the world has too many problems, and nothing we can do will matter. Or we can assume that we’re all clumsy, together, and lend a hand—or a metaphorical leash—when we can.

It’s all part of building community. Is your way easier than being clumsy? Tell us about it.

« Previous Page

How a Company’s Raffle Prize Helped an Animal Shelter

How Mall Dogs Trump Wolves

Worshipping at the Altar of Rimadyl

It’s Called Trespassing: Quit Ruining the World for Dogs

Why MY Dogs Aren’t Spoiled–MY Cat Ain’t, Either

Grace the Cat’s Tail

When Animal Communication Bites

We’re Cat’s Eye Writer’s First Guest Writer

What Do Animal Communicators Really Do?

Lending a Hand … or a Leash

Bridging the Paradigms

Alchemy West Inc.

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