The Power of Trust…or is it Patience?

August 4th, 2010 by LittlestMusher | Posted in Be The Lead Dog
Tags: Be the Lead Dog, dogs as teachers, life lessons from the dogs, Trust

Barb and I are often asked about our experiences with our sled dogs, out on the trail during races or training. Those are some of the most intense learning experiences we have, due in part to the wide variety of “teaching moments” that arise unexpectedly — so many variables of trail, dogs, gear, wildlife, supplies, other teams, weather,just to name a few! But we don’t always need a race or long training run to have the opportunity to learn a profound lesson. The dogs are willing teachers wherever they are and whatever they are doing, so long as we are receptive students.

I had an incredible experience with one of my dogs the other day in my dog yard.  Just an everyday, run of the mill summer day — too hot to train, so just take the time to feed, water, scoop, chat, scratch, and hugs while getting some dirty paw prints and kibble-breath kisses. As a special treat during the summer I occasionally give them “meatsicles” — frozen patties of ground meat. Just like a kid with a popsicle, the dogs LOVE them and get very excited when I open the magic bucket and out comes meatsicles. A perfect mid-summer treat, given sparingly, so as to not have them bulk up on unnecessary calories.

I always do the same route and routine going through the yard, from dog to dog, each in their circle, so as not to miss anyone. First 2 rows along the bottom of the yard, from left to right, then move up to the 3rd row in the middle, then finish the last row from right to left so I end up back where I started.

I was passing through the middle of the yard on the 3rd row, when below me I heard a very strange sound. Sort of a cross between and bark and a yipe, or maybe a strangled bark.  When you spend literally hundreds upon hundreds of hours together, you know what all the normal sounds are, even if they don’t fully register in your consciousness. When an abnormal sound occurs, it really jumps out at you.

I looked up, and it appeared that Gus, back down on the first row, was wrapped up in his chain somehow, probably wrapped around a leg, since he kept backing and pulling away. I calmly stopped what I was doing and bucket in hand headed back down to his circle. I couldn’t quite see what was going on, but he was getting increasingly frantic to undo whatever it was. When I got there, I understood why. Somehow the ring on his collar had flipped up and over his lower canines, and he had his entire lower jaw stuck inside the collar ring. In his struggles the ring was cutting his mouth and there was blood everywhere.

I got him and asked him to let me help, then tried to pull the ring back over his teeth and out of his mouth. Wasn’t happening…how he managed to get it flipped up into his mouth remains a deep mystery, because no matter how I moved his head or the ring or collar, it wasn’t coming off. I wasn’t as worried about the bleeding as I was about him knocking one or both of his canines out or breaking them in his frantic attempts to free himself from the collar ring.

I realized I needed to be more creative. If I loosened his collar, it should give enough slack so that I could square up the ring and slide it off his jaw. But in order to loosen his collar, Gus had to hold still and let me handle him — the collars are normally tight enough so the dogs can’t slip out accidentally, and they are extra secure with a good layer of embedded dirt, meaning that they’re not very flexible and it takes some doing to loosen them. Of all dogs, it would be Gus…Gus who is shy, Gus who is reluctant to be touched or handled except for food, Gus whom I have a wrestling match with to cut his toenails, Gus who I have worked constantly with for years to overcome his shyness and who I could imagine would be so traumatized that all the training and socialization would be for naught, and we’d have to start all over again. But there was simply no other choice.

So, calmly and securely, I put my hands on him to reassure him (and myself) that I had the situation under control, and asked him to “WAIT”. I kept reassuring him and telling him to “Just Wait”.  And he did…he became perfectly still, the frantic attempts to free himself ceased, and he put himself totally in my hands, literally and figuratively, to take care of the situation. It took several minutes of concentrated effort to loosen the collar, finally producing enough slack so that I could square up the ring and smoothly move it up and over his canines and back out of his mouth. The entire time Gus sat patiently and calmly, reflecting my self-assurance and ensuring we got it over with in the quickest way possible.

I was TOTALLY blown away.  So many different lessons emerged from that seemingly simple interaction. The amazing power of Trust, to be able to solve a crisis calmly as opposed to making matters much worse. Gus trusted me…took the accumulated experiences of all the times when trust was tenuously granted and reaffirmed in intent and action, and made the instant decision to trust me completely this time. I would solve the problem. And simply because he trusted me and believed in me and my ability to help him, therefore I could. Gus is a big strong dog — if he were fighting and struggling, there would be no way to hold him still enough to loosen his collar.

I had to trust him as well, and trust myself. My trust in my ability to handle the situation was like a self-fulfilling prophecy.  We talk often about how the dogs mirror what is going on within ourselves, and this was no exception. I approached the problem with calmness to my core, reflecting my self-assurance in my abilities and creativity. I’d not seen or dealt with anything such as this before, but I knew that I could figure it out. I HAD to…Gus was depending on me, and me alone, and there was no one else around.

And because I was patient, Gus was patient with and for me. He did exactly as I asked…he would just sit and Wait, wait until everything was better. Once the collar ring was off he stood up, but I asked him to wait while I re-tightened his collar, which he did. Then when I released him with a verbal “OK, GOOD BOY!!!”, it was like our teaching moment bubble popped, and life went on as normal, as if nothing had happened.

Gus and I both learned some powerful lessons that day about Trust. Or was it Patience?

What do you think? Have you had similar experiences in your life, with your dogs?

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