Of all the things I've done in life, it's the really small things or inadvertent moments that I reflect on most with the greatest joy. I've never measured myself quantitatively...at least in comparison to the "norm".
This morning, even though I struggled to wake up and get a move on, I had one of those times when life just felt full. Lauren was still peacefully resting.
I spooned her gently and held close for a few minutes and gathered my "non-sleeping" clothes to take Homer out for is early morning relief. It may not seem like much, but most days-this is like Christmas morning for me. For one, Homer is ridiculously cute and fills my heart with his little sleepy eyes. But two, it's a time to connect with him and a peaceful and non-verbal way. We read each other pretty well.
After pee time is over, Homer and I go to work.
Today, we woke up in a basement in Toledo. It was a quick trip to visit family, but an opportunity I didn't want to waste in introducing Homer to a world that reaches far beyond his kennel and our walls. For a while, I lived in what some would call a rough part of of Toledo...it was near a high crime area with a very mixed population of people. And, certainly a place where you need to watch yourself and your belongings.
This is exactly where we went to work today.
We listened to Bruce Springsteen and slowly drove around to find a place where I could park the car. With whole hearted trust, Homer half-slid and half-fell out of my car and onto the pavement...already absorbing smells and sounds that probably blow his little mind.
The reasons for all this are simple. It is my responsibility as a pack leader to teach Homer acceptance and help him to relax in many environments. In a very direct way, I don't want a racist dog or an intolerant companion. Homer needs, and deserves, to see as many people and as many environments as is safe for him. He also needs not fear a human or be unsettled by loud noises and different smells, textures, and appearances. In addition, for me it is a wonderful moment to see someone (seemingly hardened) light up at the sight of a puppy...who genuinely wants nothing more than to say "hello", lick your face, and wiggle his ass. I see many people smile and pat Homer on the head with the warmest intentions and get absorbed into the warmth of a curious puppy.
Simple and beautiful.
This also works two fold. As an all white Boxer, Homer is constantly perceived as a Pit Bull. To most, a Pit Bull arouses fear and anxiety. It did in me as well until recently. When we started taking walks with Charlie, the 3 year old Pit, I started to really fined an affinity for these dogs. Charlie is a gentle and tolerant giant who could easily rip my arm off if he wanted to. But, an animal from which I haven't seen the least bit of aggression. Charlie is stout, proud, disciplined, affectionate, and nothing like the monster the resonates from the name "Pit Bull". I love Charlie.
All that said, I want our experience with Homer to give something back to myself, Lauren and Homer, as well as everyone we come in contact with. I want the intensity of a solid musculature and snarling bark not to intimidate people. Homer will have both, but my hope is that he will remain a puppy at heart and share with people his loving touch and wiggly butt.
Although he sleeps in a 3'X3' kennel, I want Homer's reach to be far beyond any one place we'll ever be.
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