little miss alice and some icarus

So things don't seem that great lately. I'm school overworked, and have a bundle of other troubles (small and large) that are likely just part of being a person and living a life. I lost my sweet Evie dog 2 months ago, and that is a grief that deserves it's own post (and will get one, when I can). Suffice it to say after 2-3 weeks of crying and zombie-like existence, I realized I wasn't going to stop crying until I had somewhere to put all that love that Evie created. And so...enter Alice.

Alice is almost 6 months old. She is half German Shepard and half traveling salesman. Honestly, she looks like a miniature German Shepard. Alice is very dainty, so very sweet and affectionate, loves people, but is a bit on the insecure side. I got her from a rescue out in the boonies in Oklahoma; I've had her a little over a month and I adore her for her own sweet little self. She's getting braver slowly; she ventures further out in the yard, wrestles with Ott (my boyfriend's dog), absolutely loves the lake and swims around like crazy, plays with other dogs (as long as they aren't too big and rambunctious). But, she has had a huge problem with the leash. In fact, she would go down on all fours, spread-eagle the minute you gave even the slightest tug on the leash. She was never abused, and was born at the same rescue I got her at where she was well-loved and taken care of. So, it had to be something else.

Meanwhile, I'm taking a heavy load of classes during the summer session, and I haven't had time to really work with her on the leash. My few attempts seemed to result in more negativity, and I ceased them immediately so as not to worsen the issue. And I'm feeling like a failure. I hear Cesar Milan in my head, "You must walk as a pack...you must relate to the dog as calm assertive pack leader...you must give off the right energy...exercise, discipline, affection...otherwise, the dog will never be balanced." I know little Alice needs to get out there, run and walk, and get excited. She will go many places with me in her life, and I know from experience that the way to a happy dog is exercise, exercise, exercise, and socialize, socialize, socialize, and routine, and love, and, and, and...
It's always been so instinctual with me and animals, but now, what if I become a colossal failure as a dog-parent? What if this means I'm a colossal failure in life?

It is clearly becoming bigger than the leash.

And then today, I went out the gate to put some trash out and didn't bother to latch it. Alice has never left the yard of her own volition, so I didn't think I thing about it. Next thing I know, she's pushed herself out of the gate and is wiggling over to me. And I hear Cesar Milan, "You must be in the moment with the dog...dogs live in the moment...use their energy." So, I go all excited with Alice, and we bounce around in the driveway, and I chase her further and further out, and she chases me back, and then I think, her leash is right inside the gate...let's try. I get the leash, she follows me back in the yard, she follows me back into the driveway, we bounce around some more and get all wound-up again, and I put her leash on her while she's getting a belly rub, and then I go. Before she knows it, we're running down the sidewalk, she's sniffing everything, running back and forth in front of me, bouncing here and there like it never occurred to her that it just might be fun. And there I am, in boxers and a t-shirt, no bra, and wearing flip-flops running with little Miss Alice down the street, talking to her like a crazy woman, egging her on in a high-pitched baby voice. (Dear neighbors, I apologize for any trauma caused by this.) We went 3 blocks down and on the way back, Alice was pulling me. In the moment, things were different. In the moment, I didn't realize anything because I was in the moment running with my little dog, and we were having the time of our lives.

Cesar Milan is quiet now. My instincts are in tact. I will know what to do and when to do it. If nothing else is clear, I know I can trust myself.

Thank you for the walk, Alice. :) We'll do it again tomorrow.


And here's today's poem, how appropriate.

To a Friend Whose Work has Come to Triumph
by Anne Sexton

Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wings on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well:
larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that he fell back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.