Everything in Moderation

If you know anything about labs, you know their every move is motivated by food: there desire for it, their proximity to it, and the minutes until their next meal. My dogs know a few words like "here," "sit," "stay," and "DINNER."

Labs are known for their "people dog” qualities, meaning they like being around their owners and try to please then. They will often follow you from room to room. However, all of this is forgotten when any hope of food is near - and all their best intentions for good behavior go out the window.

Case in point:

One day when I was gone Molly learned how to open the lazy-susan cabinet in my kitchen. What did I keep in said cabinet? Ziploc bags, vegetable oil, and about 4 sticks of Crisco. I think Molly must have started innocently enough-- "oh wow, look! If I keep pushing this wood thing, it swings!" Then I think she caught a glimpse of something new to put into her mouth - aka Ziploc. Then, duh duh duh, she caught a sniff of the Crisco.

I found out the hard way that, like many of us, Molly loves Fat - specifically Crisco. When I came home, I found the following: the entire kitchen, dining room, and living room littered with torn up Ziplocs. A half-empty large bottle of vegetable oil laying sideways on the living room floor, with the remainder of it's contents soaking into the floor boards. Two untouched Crisco bars laid with the remains of one wrapper by the TV stand. Molly lying on one side as close to the sofa as possible with a maddened look in her eye. And then, as the shock finally settled on my face in that "oh my GOD" position - I saw it....the front end of my sofa...everywhere. Apparently one of the Crisco bars had squirted under the sofa and Molly lost interest in everything else -- can't you just see the thought process "must Have CRISCO!" She destroyed the front part of the coach in her desperate attempt to get her treat.

Then, when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I saw it. The 1/2 ton TUB of lard (well, it seems like a 1/2 ton at the time), sitting straight up by the front door. I'm not sure how I ever came to own a LARGE TUB of Crisco - but I did. And evidently I stored it in the very BACK of the lazy-susan. I picked it up and found it had been licked down to the bottom.

The next week Molly had a VERY shiny coat.

Life lesson: move all edible objects to higher, less accessible levels. Know that Labs love “the good stuff” just as much as we do. And realize that sometimes we can get just a one-track mind as Molly did that day – too much of a “good” thing is bad. EVERYTHING is best in moderation – especially Crisco.

Post note: for all you dog lovers –the vet was called, and Molly survived. She didn’t even seem to notice. As a preventative measure, she was on a special non-fat diet for 4 days after that. I had to cook her lean meats!

Remind me to tell you of the time Wrigley consumed 1/2 a box of "sugar in the raw" with Molly's help. That went just as well. Wow, Molly does have a sweet tooth.

A Loving Father

The longer I have Labs in my life, the more I understand God as a Loving Father. I have a porch that is elevated above my fenced in back yard. I love to stand there watching my Labradors as they go about their business in the safe haven I have created for them. I smile as I watch them swimming in their little pool, licking each other, running, laying in the cool grass, sniffing, chewing, watching the birds, or yes, even digging. I love when they love each other's company. I rejoice in even their minor accomplishments, and revel in their individual preferences, habits, and differences. I even enjoy their more rudimentary requirements, like sleeping, eating food, drinking water, taking a bath, or even when they finally go pee when I know they have to! I watch and care for them with tender affection, as God must watch us.

I provide for them without them asking, and they trust I always will. They do not question where their food, shelter, water, or medical care will come from. I mark them with my number so that if they are lost they can be identified as belonging to me-- that they are mine. I reward them with treats for good behavior and I challenge them to learn new tasks because I can see their potential. I watch them always, even when they don't think I do. And although it pains me, I discipline them when they do bad, so that they may learn. I sometimes leave them alone so they grow in character or restrain them for their own good, so that they don't harm themselves. They think I am far away from them, or mean or cruel, but I am none of these things. I love them, no matter how they feel. And I see how when they obey my commandments, they are at their happiness.

But, ultimately, they have free will. They sometimes think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. They find an open door, or create one, and they roam outside my care. They encounter things they don't understand: filth, poor health, true hunger, cold nights, mean people and more danger than they've ever known. And I am saddened to know they are not with me. I worry; I send others looking for them. I call them by name.

They are always found. For some unlucky ones, they are not found until the very, bitter end, when it is almost too late. They are found starved, beaten and bruised - in ill health. But they come home. I mourn their passing, and think back on their life and know others were happier or even made better when they were with me. But for my two, when they come home I welcome them with shouts of joy, and sometimes tears, with pats, hugs and kisses. I embrace them, and give them the finest food. I bathe, comb and brush them. I call everyone to say, "they are found!" I tell everyone I meet, "they've come home!"

Yes, loving is the same no matter on what level is is done: be it God looking down on us, or us upon the life that's in our care. Love is love, and we are better for it. When I watch my Labradors I understand God is a Loving Father.

Popcorn

I absolutely love this picture. If you know Bella or Nate, the Spaniels, you know how funny this is. I call it "silent but steathly," or "Nate 1, popcorn 0."

Unleashed

Observe the unleashed dog: this is joy in it's truest, most undiluted form. Should you think the potential for pure happiness has died in this world, look no farther than at the end of your 6 foot leash. I believe every dog exists in a perpetual wait - exhibiting an amazing patience human's can't truly appreciate or maybe be capable of. They exist to love and obey without question, all while hoping against hope to hear that quiet, simple sound which means freedom from all restraint: the "click" of the eye hoop at the end of the leash snapping open.

To see my two Labradors (2 1/2 and 5 months) run free, crashing happily into the waves without a care this morning at Lake Charlevoix made me happy. How simple are the best pleasures in life. I wondered then, how long I had been on too short leash. But unlike them, I have the ability to unhook what binds me and be my own master. I just hope that I take the time the undo that hook, to look about me and, making the best of any situation as they so often do, find happiness in crashing against the waves, or the mud, or the trail less traveled where no barriers exist, if that is where my spirit takes me.