Puppy Training and the Kingdom of God

Watching Cesar Millan’s The Very Best of Dog Whisperer on Netflix I was struck in an episode (episode 6) with a situation very similar to our own - a Beagle puppy that doesn’t respect the house rules. Though the puppy was older and more out of control than our Scout (4.5 months old), I could easily see (and shudder!) many similarities in behavior. As Cheri and I reflected on what we can take away and apply to our situation, I was struck by a series of ideas that have much wider consequences for my life and family beyond whether or not a dog does what we want. What is at stake is nothing less than the further establishment of the Kingdom of God on this planet.

Allow me to tease this out, and please feel free to jump in and dialogue with me!

First, I have to remember that Scout watches the way our “pack” works. If it is operating correctly, then she knows her place and is happily involved in puppy business (eating, playing, sleeping, etc.) and not troubled with whether or not she has to lead. If she is unsure about her place in the pack, she becomes insecure, restless and troublesome. Often a change in discipline (either in kind or consistency) brings her quickly back within the boundaries of sanity. This made me reflect on the relationships in our home, the culture or “aroma” of authority and submission that exists for her to observe. What are we communicating? All our pretense is lost on the dog. She sees us as we really are. We cannot expect her to obey our authority if we don’t respect and submit to one another (in a “chain-of-command” way, children to parents, wife to husband, all to Jesus).

The issue of integrity comes up here. If our family unit has integrity, then Scout will pick up on that and realize her place. She will feel safe and cared for, recognizing that we are all pack leaders above her. If, however, there is dissension and unrest among us I have noticed that Scout picks up on that too, beginning to feel insecure and pushing boundaries to test us. I need to remember that the next time I decide to get angry or frustrated in the home.

Secondly, Scout can be a little bundle of chaos, forcefully exposing what we are trusting in (I have alluded to this in previous posts on Scout – see here and here). In a sense, she is a “life lab” of how we handle difficult situations - with prayer and trust, or through greater attempts at control resulting in increased anger and/or frustration? Control is an illusion, only participation is possible. As apprentices to Jesus (thanks to Dallas Willard for many of the categories I’m throwing about here), we are called to bring order to chaos in our spheres of influence. To winsomely bring order to Scout’s life takes more skill and Spirit-strength than our family currently has. We need Jesus. He is the true dog whisperer (sorry, Cesar) - truly the master of all fields of knowledge including this one (Col 2:3).

Thirdly, Cesar talks a lot about what kind of “energy” we bring to our dogs. “Negative” energy erodes any training efforts, communicating confusion to the dog about their place. What Cesar means by this is the need to know our role and assert it in a calm, firm way that is consistent. This is summarized in the maxim: “I am the boss; you are the dog and I am the human, your master.” This makes me think of how apprentices of Jesus should be the best in the world at this! We have access to all the resources of God and his Kingdom in our inner world; we are free in Christ and his kingdom to be centered and joyfully firm. We do not need affirmation from the dog or from their compliance; we have all we need from Christ. Whether or not the dog obeys us, our standing with God in Christ remains firm. This is the ultimate foundation for a calm and assertive presence in the home.

Further, Cesar’s new-age “naturalism” really only works in dog training if he assumes some truths (=steals capital) from the Christian worldview. Only in the Christian worldview (and more broadly, perhaps, a theistic worldview) is there a Creator/creature distinction necessary to train dogs. Cesar has no intellectual warrant to state that he is “lord” over dogs, but the only way to train them is to assume that we are higher creatures with some role of dominion over them. In the Kingdom of God (=reality), humans are made in the image of God, acting as his rulers over this planet and all the life therein. This gives Christians much greater means and resources to train dogs well, at least in theory.

The curse put on creation by God in Genesis 3 means that puppy training will be hard. What is required is a with-God life of participation, trust and surrender. In fact, the very idea of training is at the heart of both our relationship to Scout and our relationship to Jesus, but obviously in different ways. As we train Scout to be a happy and functioning member of our family, Jesus invites us into a much more complex, happy and holy training as his disciples. Training Scout is a very narrow and shallow glimpse of the training we are invited into by God. Nevertheless, it is a glimpse, and can help us learn to train with Jesus.

I’m convinced more than ever that God sent Scout into our home to more fully establish the Kingdom of God here as a little outpost and beachhead of his rule. I need to learn to see her as an invitation from Jesus to be his apprentice, to do things with his strength, to see things with his vision, and to make choices with his intention and desires in my heart.

Why So Afraid?

(These are some thoughts that I have been chewing on this week, related to our new life as puppy owners)

Why am I so afraid? I became aware today that I’ve been dominated by fear since Scout (our new Beagle puppy) has joined our home on January 19, 2013. I realized this week that I haven’t been able to relax or embrace the routines that are familiar to me. I try to, but I do so hurriedly and distracted, feeling anxious and restless. When Scout has trouble with something, especially during the night, I spiral in terror inside. Why am I so afraid? I pretend to do my routines, but tiptoe on eggshells praying that the bottom doesn’t fall out from under me. The night of crying and barking she had last week still haunts me. I got up from barely any sleep to a dog covered in her own crap and a future of chaos before me, seemingly unremitting chaos.

I feel broken, exposed. Ashamed at how deeply this dog is affecting me (for the worse, it seems). How in the world can something so cute provoke something so dark in me? She is precious, and I love her! Clearly something deep is stirring that requires attention. I’ve been trying to hold up this brokenness to the Lord, and I think he’s saying something.

As I’ve noted before, our first dog (Daisy) was symbolic to me of the life I never chose but felt forced to receive. I’m discovering that Scout is symbolic too - perhaps of a new stage of life, perhaps something more. Indeed, with the weight loss I’ve experienced in the past 5 months (65+ lbs) I am literally a different person, so maybe that’s it.

As I continued to listen for what the Lord might say, I sensed that Scout represents (at least in part) what is chaotic and broken inside me, and how this makes me feel out of control. To someone who associates strongly with an orphan perspective, who knows the deep pervasive loneliness of abandonment and rejection, a lack of control is one of the most terrifying experiences you can have. If it’s all up to me, control is the only hope I have in attaining peace.

Let me unpack this some more. When Scout appears to be having trouble with something, or if training seems derailed, I feel compelled to read puppy books and comb the internet looking for help. I leave desperate messages for our vet, asking for advice. In actuality, Scout’s behavior and training issues are relatively minor. She is doing very well, considering we’ve only had her two weeks. My response to her struggles is far more extreme than the actual situation warrants, so it forces me to ask, “why?”

What am I afraid of? I know I am terrified of screwing Scout up; I’m terrified of messing up her training and never being able to fix it.

This feels familiar.

As this relates to my own soul, I realize that I am terrified of screwing up my “recovery.” I view my 10+ year long bout with depression and a profound lack of purpose as chaos requiring control. I live in almost a constant state of my “orphan” being provoked. I am desperate for a quick fix - some principle, quote, book, relationship or experience that will catapult me into the world of glory and healing and out of this day-to-day muck that is my daily life (speaking in extremes here!). My “false selves” are threatened deeply here. My fixer is terrified. My controller is anxious. The orphan rages.

Control is an illusion though; chaos is part of life in this world. It is the “stuff” of relationship, the place God meets us. Scout is far from perfect (sorry, Cesar Millan), but she loves us deeply and we love her. It reminds me of how we love broken people, sinners who rarely respond to our efforts to control or fix them. The only thing to do is love, and let God take care of the chaos.

Ultimately, the greatest chaos in history was not the time before time when “the earth was without form and void” (Gen 1:2 ESV), but when Jesus bore all the chaos of our sin and rebellion on a Roman cross. So it is here that I must find relief. I cannot find it in principles or experiences. I can only find it as I embrace chaos, feel it fully, and allow it to lead me to the cross, where chaos, disorder and horrific brokenness find healing and peace.

My next question is, how might Scout be an invitation to rest in the love of God in the midst of my brokenness?

Saying Goodbye to Daisy

In light of the prospect of acquiring a puppy (hopefully this weekend!), I felt compelled to finally write down some thoughts on saying goodbye to our dog Daisy, who passed away on December 27, 2012. She had suffered a neck injury that she could not recover from and was in a great deal of pain so we finally had to put her down.

Daisy’s journey with us was riddled with symbolic meaning, at least for me. She was a Christmas present from my Dad and step-Mom about 7 years ago. We were told at the time that she was a Beagle mix, around 3 years old (her shelter name was Sabrina!). She had been picked up off the streets with a litter of puppies. Who knows what harsh realities she had to face in those 3 years before we rescued her! She was relatively stable, though increasingly terrified of thunderstorms, a regular occurrence in our area. Her fear was annoying at times, especially to my wife who Daisy would often wake up by nuzzling her nose under her arm for comfort when the thunder rolled through. Though things like this about her were annoying at the time, I see them now as part of what made her unique, her idiosyncratic, neurotic self! They are things I think back on with fondness and some regret - regret that I didn’t appreciate her more.

Another example had to do with her stubborn Beagle will. Her stubbornness was legendary in our household! She was clearly intelligent, but we gave up on leash training her because she was so stubborn and set in her ways! Perhaps we should have persisted, but I’ve since learned it’s more important to know and love a real dog with flaws than raise a perfectly obedient dog with all the rough edges shaved off. It’s more important because that’s how people are, how life is. Real people are like that - messy, complicated mixtures of chaos and order. Daisy always helped me remember and appreciate this.

Daisy was not our first choice in a dog. We had picked one out on a Saturday before Christmas, but they had to get permission from our complex office which had to wait until Monday. When Cheri and the kids went to pick her up on Monday (while I was at work), the dog we had picked out was already adopted and gone! Somewhat heartbroken, Cheri and the kids picked Daisy instead. Though she turned out great for our family, I always harbored a bit of resentment that we weren’t able to take home the dog we picked (and I wasn’t able to be present to pick out the alternate). Daisy was always symbolic to me of the life I did not choose, but was nonetheless given to me – symbolic of the limits placed on my life. Sometimes this led to bitterness, but often it forced me to deal with my feelings of regret and anger before God. So Daisy was a blessing in disguise for me specifically, reminding me that the life I did not choose is still a gift from God to be received and lived. What other life is there?

Daisy and I had a special relationship. To her, it was clear I was the “alpha male” and she sought my approval above all others. She was always most excited when I came home! Though sometimes this attention seeking came at inopportune times, most of the time it was welcome and I have many fond memories of cuddling with her. One of my favorite memories was our almost daily routine of cuddling during my back exercises (which I have to do 3x a day). She would come over and lay on top of my chest (back legs still on the floor) and nuzzle her long nose under my chin. I cherished those times with her, always trying to see how close she could get to my face! Sometimes she would just end up laying on my chest (though my chest is large, she could barely fit!). This is what I miss the most, and I deeply regret not having any pictures of this! I took it for granted that we would have many more years to cuddle.

I’m convinced more than ever that God especially created dogs to be companions to his image bearers, especially those of us with images that are cracked, scratched and badly stained. They intuit emotion and mood better than any other pet, and I have found deep healing in their presence over the years. Their loyalty and fiercely gracious affection overlooks far more transgression than humans are typically capable of. To me they will always represent the fierce affection of the Lover of our souls, the Abba of Jesus who gave up the world to rescue his people, to rescue me.

Thank you, Father, for Daisy the Beagle! We are better sons and daughters of God because of her presence. As we drive to Eastern Kentucky to pick up a brand new member, a Beagle only 10-11 weeks old, another chapter will begin in our family. I hope this time to take more pictures and learn to love more freely, without regrets, fully accepting the dog who freely accepts me. Maybe this will better help me give and receive God’s love too.