My Worst Enemy

An interesting thing happened to me this Sunday as I was driving in Waco: I found a dog. Most of you probably don't find this of any interest at all, but before you stop reading consider the fact that this was no ordinary dog. In fact, this dog was so extraordinary that he taught me an amazing life lesson. Still reading? Good. Now back to the story.
So, I was driving along near Loop 340 when the car in front of me swerved suddenly to the right. I slowed down and saw a dog trotting down the middle of the road. He was a light brown color with white covering his muzzle. His pace was even and free despite the fact that he had almost just been hit by a car, and his tongue hung far out of the left side of his open mouth. I immediately pulled over (I couldn't help it, I love strays), put my emergency lights on, and got out of the car. I crouched down near the pavement and outstretched my hand towards him.
"Come on, cutie. Come here," I coaxed, hoping no other cars would come by for a while.
He looked me over, assessing the situation. I guess in the end he decided I didn't look very threatening because he lumbered over, nose sniffing and tongue drooling. He wasn't wearing a collar, but he didn't appear aggressive and allowed me to pet his stomach (a sign of trust from any animal, since that is where they are most vulnerable). He was hot to the touch and panting horribly. I looked at my car's thermometer; the outside temperature was over 100 degrees. I opened my car door and moved aside to see if he would get in on his own. To my great surprise and relief, he did, and I quickly turned the air conditioning on full blast. I didn't know how long he had been in that heat without water nor how far he had traveled. The only thought on my mind was to get him water as soon as possible. I drove to the nearest store with his head in my lap. When I got there I bought bottled water and a bowl and took them back out to the car for "Mickey" (I had to have SOMETHING to call him). However, when I offered him the water he only looked at it with mild interest.
"It's just water," I said as if he could understand me. I was beginning to get worried. He was no longer hot to the touch but he was still panting heavily. I was scared if I didn't get water in him soon he would pass out. I cupped the water in my hands and raised it to him, but he wouldn't drink. I wiped it around his muzzle and even tried to get some on his tongue, but he still wouldn't drink. I didn't know what else to do, so I took him home with me. After spending a couple of hours in my air conditioned apartment his excessive panting subsided, and he ambled over to the bowl and lapped up all that he could. I was shocked. Why, if he was so thirsty, did he wait? Why didn't he drink the water when he needed it the most?
All of a sudden the phrase "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink," made sense, not just literally but figuratively as well. How many times in life have I been given good advice and not taken it? How often have I unwittingly, ignorantly refused the very thing that could quite possibly save my life, whether it be spiritual, emotional, or physical? It's funny how we as humans function. So many times I have pushed away love, acceptance, and trust when deep down I know that those are the three things I need more than anything else. I explain it away by saying that if someone really did love/accept/trust me, then I wouldn't have the power to push it away, or I'll think that it's too scary to let someone in like that because then I'm too vulnerable. But the truth is that all of those things have to be mutual to be healthy and that I've become my own worst enemy by allowing fear to dictate my emotional life.
For those of you interested, there is a happy ending to this story. Yesterday I dropped "Mickey" off at the pound only to have his owners call me today to thank me for giving them their dog back. As for me, I'm trying to open up more and believe that I'm worth loving, accepting, even trusting. Just lead me to some water and watch me drink!

A Long Way Down

Wow! I'm finally here at Baylor. About a week ago I began my journey. After having an extreemly successful horse show (the Dayton Horse Show), I left my home town of Beavercreek, OH for the long, lonely road. Well, perhaps that's not entirely true, since I did have my dog Emmy with me. However, she proved to be a rather quiet companion. So, the 20 plus hour drive was rather lonely. It took me two days, five fast food meals, one motel room, and a whole lot of reflection. For the most part the roads were clear and the traffic was flowing at a decent pace. There wasn't anything terribly horrific or otherwise interesting, which left me with my thoughts, pure and unobstructed. I noticed that more often than not I would drift into automatic drive and follow my ideas about the past and future as they weaved in and out, always leaving more concerns in their wake. I realized that there were two quotes that always came to mind when I thought of all the situations I've dealt with over the past two years. The first one was, "Well, it could always be worse." And of course the next one was, "But it could always be better too." It's funny that these two phrases seem to sum up every situation in life. No matter how bad it gets, things could always be worse; and no matter how wonderful and perfect things appear, they could always be better. So this is what I've decided: my life has its ups and downs, but if I keep in mind that things could always be worse in the down times, then I'll always be encouraged, and if I remember that things could always be better in the good times, then it will keep me humble. Although we may strive for the perfect life, nothing in this world is perfect. However, we can have a good life by living somewhere inbetween, remembering that if we do our own personal best, that's the most perfect we'll ever be.