I'm sorry to say, I'm just not a natural-born believer in a little dog's unique charm... Their yippy voices, wiry frames, beady eyes, and often aggressive demeanors have always rubbed me the wrong way (I know not every little dog fits these descriptions, so here's a good place to insert an apology for stereotyping!) I attribute my tendencies towards annoyance and dislike of the tiny creatures to my dad. He's always found great joy in labeling little dogs as "toilet brushes," because "that's really the only thing they're good for," and my spongy mind soaked up this presupposition as a child. I've found that over the years this label has become more engrained in my mentality, to the point where my initial reaction to seeing almost any little dog is "gross, that should go in a toilet." Yikes!!! How horrible am I?!
What's worse than my internal judgements of little dogs is the external expression of my offensive opinions. I've had quite a few "open mouth, insert foot" experiences centered around the innocent creatures. I don't hide my thoughts or emotions particularly well, and I've said things (verbally and non-verbally) that were better left unsaid. You know that wise saying your mother used to say, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all..." well, I should really take that to heart a bit more often. I mean, really, how necessary is it to harshly proclaim, "Ew, is that a dog?" or to allow a snarky look to wave across my face when I decide to try and keep my mouth shut. My face ends up saying it all.
Well, as much as I'd love to keep ranting about my miniature-canine frustration, I better cut to the chase of this profound (*cough*) thought stream. While I've griped and complained about the yipping, scratching, shaking, annoying little creatures commonly referred to as "cute little dogs," I've been challenged with several applicable thoughts… they've done nothing wrong to me, so what on earth do I have against them… they can't help it, I need to love them…
I’d
forgotten about the post sitting in my “draft” box for the past several months
until the most recent little dog encounter. As I was babysitting this weekend,
the family’s most recent addition to the family (a puppy version of a little
dog) was wearing on my patience. I felt like I’d constantly been telling him to
get out of the kitchen, drop the toilet paper, get away from whatever he’d been
chewing… his annoyance level kept increasing rapidly until one of the boys made
a passing comment to me…
Little
puppy dog was pawing at my arms and giving me the most pathetic
tongue-hanging-out-of-mouth look while, of course, producing countless whimpers and wines, and my reaction was simply “Go away!” The
9-year-old boy from across the room, sidetracked by his video game,
half-heartedly commented, “he just wants some loves.”
That’s
it. Love. Puppy just wanted to be loved.
Was
I seriously being convicted by my lack of love towards a pesky puppy? Yep. It
hit me harder than I care to admit. This yappy creature just wanted a tiny dose
of my affection, a glimpse of fondness. He wanted to be noticed, be cared for,
be enjoyed…. He was trying to receive my love by reminding me of his presence.
Surely, if I only knew he was there, I would readily extend love.
As often as I’ve told myself time and time again that whatever love I have toward someone else is from the Lord, it’s hard to remember. I know that true love extended by me is not of myself; I simply don’t have it in me to crank out love on a whim. Love, in any capacity, is completely from the Lord. Sure, I can easily extend affection toward people I like, but it’s difficult to love them. Like actually LOVE them.
As often as I’ve told myself time and time again that whatever love I have toward someone else is from the Lord, it’s hard to remember. I know that true love extended by me is not of myself; I simply don’t have it in me to crank out love on a whim. Love, in any capacity, is completely from the Lord. Sure, I can easily extend affection toward people I like, but it’s difficult to love them. Like actually LOVE them.
So,
all this to say, may the Lord make my love for others abound more and more,
including love for the “little dogs” in my life.
I suppose it's better than actually being the metaphorical little dog, that regardless of who you are or what you do, the simple fact is that they just don't like you and love was just not going to happen.
ReplyDeleteWay better than being that metaphorical little dog walking away thinking there was something profoundly wrong with him: I mean what else can he be, besides a pesky puppy?