dachshunds

Vanity Lesson from Wisdom of Dog

Vanity Lesson from Wisdom of Dog

Dogs and vanity — those two words don’t really belong together. That is the beauty of one of the lessons we can learn from them.

Last month, Gidget had to have six teeth pulled. Last year she had 15 pulled, which now leaves her with only half her teeth.  Dachshunds, unfortunately can be notorious for bad teeth, even if one is due diligent in brushing them.

I’ve had to fight Gidget since day one of adopting her to brush those teeth of hers. It’s not a pleasant experience for either of us. She somewhat tolerates a dental wipe I now use for her.

But with the last dental it looked like one of her lower canines needed to come out. My vet said he didn’t like to have to pull those if it didn’t need to be.

I asked why, and he told me because that is what holds a dogs tongue in. Without it, Gidget’s tongue would fall out to the side on occasion. I said, ” Is that bad?”  Meaning, could it cause her pain or something I wasn’t aware of.

He said it is strictly cosmetic. I said, “That’s it?”

He shared with me that many clients don’t want their dogs tongue to hang out. I grinned and said, ” Really?  Well, I think you know that wouldn’t bother me.” He smiled.

It made me think about vanity in our world and all the cosmetic surgery that happens on a daily basis. While some is truly needed, I think so much of it is done for the wrong reasons. And honestly, it makes me sad to think of how (especially women) have bought into what our culture has defined as how they should look.

And by all means, I am not perfect and have my days of wishing I had more of ” this”  or less of “that.”  But it’s never been worth it to me risk going under the knife.

Gidget’s tongue hanging out to the side had me revisiting how I felt the day my dachshund, Frankie became paralyzed in 2006.  How I worried what others would think that I had a dog in a wheelchair.

How I came to realize it was really all my “stuff” and none of hers.  I’d come to learn she didn’t see a wheelchair as a negative, as humans can tend to do. But it was a tool that helped her live a quality life. She was still the same Frankie. Her wheelchair changed nothing about her.

But it changed so much for me. I started to treat myself better. My inner talk of beating myself up became less and less. I started to accept myself for who I am. I came to understand more and more that I am not my body. It is just the house that provides a place for my soul to reside for now. And it’s my spirit, that when I take care of it, shines through in a beautiful way.

And so it was with Frankie and her back legs not working, and is now with Gidget and her endearing little pink tongue that hangs out to the side.

But she is still Gidget – the sweet, loving, independent, sometimes stubborn, endearing little dog that she always was and will always be. The spirit of who she is comes shining through whether her tongue is hanging out or not.

I am my own biggest critic. Before anyone else has criticized me, I have already criticized myself. But for the rest of my life, I am going to be with me and I don’t want to spend my life with someone who is always critical. So I am going to stop being my own critic. It’s high time that I accept all the great things about me.”  -C. JoyBell

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Cycles of Life. A Writers Life. My Life.

Writing has so many cycles like life - I'm in the waiting game right now.
Joie and Me. Summer of 2013.

I was thinking about the cycle of life today. How things come and go. Another Mother’s Day has come and gone. Spring, for the most part, has sprung, and before we know it, we will be in the heat and humidity of summer.

The cycle of life, how at times speeds by, but then other times feels like it is crawling slowly along like a snail.

My manuscript for Wisdom Found in the Pause, my second memoir, has been with my editor almost three months now.

A book that took me over three years to get to the point of feeling comfortable and handing it over to my editor. A hurdle I wasn’t sure I’d be able to jump. But yet, I did.

Just like many things in life, there are always hoops to jump through. Some we can do without a thought, some we ponder for what seems eternity.

It felt that way, writing my second memoir, like trudging through very thick muck at times. My own fear and questioning if it was “good enough” was the mud I was trying to see through.

My vision for it not quite clear yet, as I still have some doubts. But I’m hopeful with my editor’s feedback I will find that opening of freedom all writers strive for- that moment they know without a shadow of doubt the book that won’t not let them rest, will make its way out into the world.

Writing has so many cycles like life – the idea for a book – the endless hours of writing – the courage summoned to release it to an editor – the thoughts that invade at the oddest times- the wrestling of doubt, fear, and questioning during the waiting game.

I’m in the waiting game right now, which for awhile was a comfortable place to be. I was relieved to let my manuscript go to my editor when I did in February, and take a break from it. There comes a point when you just have to do this in order to make it better.

But now, I find myself in the not-being-so-patient process of wanting to know that all my devotion and hard work can actually be a book I release to my audience.

Waiting for confirmation from my editor that the manuscript, which will no doubt need lots more work, but hope I rest in the arms of that it is doable.

And the place in the cycle I am now is that I am eager to get back to work on whipping it into the shape. But I must wait.

And I envision when I can say it is complete…and I can let it go…and it moves out into the spaces and places it needs to go.

But now, in this moment, suspended in time, hanging slightly off balance, I await the fate of what it will actually be.

Not yet fully knowing, but leaning heavily into my faith that a divine plan is already in place.

And just like I had to do when things unfolded so rapidly in my dachshund, Joie’s, short-lived life with me, of which I write about in this book. How it seemed to spin way too fast, but yet stopped me dead in my tracks when I had to make a gut wrenching decision to do what I felt was best for her.

How that decision led to the next phase which was a period of transition for me – and that was a whole process of cycles too. And a cycle I had fought against the whole year before. Until I knew I had to look it straight in the face or let it continue to disrupt my inner world.

Days come and go. We create, struggle, fly high, let go, look back, look forward, and search for peace in-between…where peace is always faithful in that it resides here always beckoning us to see that this is truly the only cycle that matters.

And so it is.

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Dachshunds Are Smart…When They Want to Be.

Dachshunds Are Smart...When They Want to Be.

Normally, Miss Gidget hangs out sleeping on the over-sized wicker chair in my writing cottage while I work every day.

Somehow, over the last year she has taken to not liking her bed on the floor and only wants to curl up on the chair. Smart dachshund.

Now with spring here, the warm sun streams in through the east window in the mornings. The chair is no longer suitable for the “queen” and she crawls over to the sun spot on the ottoman in front of the chair. Smart dachshund.

Those wiener dogs, my husband John says, are smart when they wanna be. I’m thinking she is way smarter than we give her credit for. Somehow she has trained me quite well going from the bed on the floor to the cozy chair.

Sneaky little dachshunds.

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