Life is like walking a dog on a leash
Today I met up with a good friend of mine from college. This will make the third or fourth time we’ve hung out since I graduated almost four years ago. I didn’t get the opportunity to really know him while we were in school because we really only had a work relationship only. Rewind to today, it’s almost like getting to know him for the first time, and it feels great because I feel like we’re reconnecting at a more “authentic” period in my life — meaning, he gets to meet the real f*@ked up version of me, and not the phony, chirpy, bubbly version of me.
He’s been up to my city twice now. Each time he spent money on food and gas. So, I told him I’d come down to him this time and suggested we do something free and simple like taking a walk with his dogs.
He has two adowable dogs — one a full-blooded pitt bull, and the other a pitt bull husky mix. Growing up, my parents never let me have pets so, yes, something as simple as walking a dog is pretty exciting for me.
When I pull up, he’s blocking a small crack between him and the open door; looking back behind him and back at me like dog owner’s do for crazy dogs whenever someone’s about to walk in. I walk up to the door and hear him look back behind him and say in his James Earl Jones-esque baritone voice: “Unh huh.”
He turns and greets me with a quick ‘Hey Mj.’, but maintains a stoic expression as he stares down at the two most beautiful creatures I’ve probably ever seen: Loki, the black and brown pitt, with the face of Rottweiler and eyes the color of milk, accompanied by Blue, the pitt-husky mix with the body of a husky but only with a flat coat, and the wide head of a pitt, with long, point husky ears and also a set of milky blue eyes.
They were going berserk, but remained on their twitchy little butts somehow; looking from me back to my friend excitedly. I didn’t know butts and tails could move that quickly. I also had never seen smiles so big and wet before.
They were huge. Though I wanted to let them charge at me and share all their love, I knew it’d probably be pretty painful being that I’m not much taller than they are — a bit of an exaggeration, but not really. They’re nothing but muscle and adrenaline.
Right off the bat, what caught my attention was my friend’s ability to get these gigantic love muffins to remain seated.
“Wow, you know what you’re doing, Juwan.” I said.
To this, he simply replied:
“No. They just know not to not listen.”
I looked from him back down to the two elated pitt bulls below me in wonderment. I knew he didn’t mistreatment them in any sort of way, so that thought wasn’t the source of my astonishment. I was astonished because this one man — with the voice of James Earl Jones, yes, but still — had the power to make these two pups fight against all their animated anticipation and remain firmly on their behinds. I mean, I know people say training isn’t that hard but I’m still amazed at the power of conditioning, animal or not.
We head out for the walk. Juwan hands me the leash for Blue and I look at him like “Really? You think I can handle all this?”
Responding to my expression he says:
Keep the leash tight. Don’t let him pull you. Let him know you’re in control.
Okay, I know, I know… cliche. But for the entire walk that statement rung between my ears like a good song. I couldn’t help but start to think about my own life and how ‘not in control’ I often feel over my own sanity, and it got me thinking about two things:
- Is ‘life’ really like a box of chocolates, and not just some word that defines a beating heart and living above ground?
- If life is like a box of chocolates, does that mean I can will myself into feeling more in control by picking and choosing what pieces I choose to consume, partake, or give away?
‘Yes’ to both, I think.
I felt myself start to pull back on the leash a little harder.
“You’re not going to hurt him,” Juwan reassured me as he saw the pained look on my face. “If you want to feel better about it — I don’t want him pulling away and running into the road, or charging after someone who’s afraid of dogs. He’s a pitt. I may know he’s harmless, but not very many other people do.”
In other words: I can’t control what’s going on around me, but I can control what’s on the other side of this leash, and know that by controlling it I’m also protecting it from what’s surrounding it.
I looked down at the dogs as their lean, muscular bodies waddled down the path happily, sniffing every crack and crevice, lifting their legs to mark everything, and getting tangled in their leashes. They honestly looked high on life. Of course I don’t want to assume this, and it feels strange putting it that way because of the master to slave dichotomy, but I feel confident saying they really looked content because I know they have a great owner who protects them from their own ignorant bliss and exuberance.
Walking with authority over your own life puts you in better control of all the things that come with living. Just like Juwan’s authority over Loki and Blue, two precious parts of his life, if you lose control — whether it be in your relationships, your work, or your finances — you’ve succumbed to mental chaos. And chaos doesn’t always have to be negative. It can be positive. But too much of a good thing isn’t always the best for you — as any pitt who gets free of their owner and ends up in the wrong yard, may know.
Taking control isn’t abuse when you’re trying to protect what you treasure most from the pressures of the world around it; knowing that without constructing a few guardrails it could be hurt or hurt someone else. Life’s all a balancing act: too much chocolate will make your stomach hurt, and too little is just, well, boring.
After a few minutes of keeping the leash reasonably tight, I felt the tension between Blue’s collar and the grip in my hand start to slack. A few more walks — well maybe many more walks — I’d be better at it then than I am now.
