So I did a thing. I got a dog. 

My whole life I wanted a dog. I had one for 6 months when I was younger, and then after the dog tried to bite me, by parents gave it away while I was at school. It was devastating. I was in the middle of an art project at school dedicated to my pet dog. I began the project with my pet, I ended the project without one. My school would showcase our artwork and seeing it displayed felt like seeing a memorial. 

Since then, no pet. In my 20’s I worked at such a demanding (and toxic) church environment that expected your whole life. Pet ownership was rarely seen because it was luxury that distracted you from the real purpose of life: to live and die for God. In my 30’s I was church planting, having kids, and also trying to save my marriage. Now, at 40, I decided it was time to get a dog. My kids love animals and I knew they’d be so excited. My original plan was to get one after they found out about the divorce. A therapy pet if you will. But as I had to deal with my husband’s shenanigans, I realized I needed/wanted the dog earlier. And it all incredibly worked out. My family needed a hypoallergenic dog due to me and my son’s allergies and my parents’ overly clean sensibilities. After all the local shelters turned me away because they didn’t have any dogs that fit that category, my neighbor connected me with a breeder who had a litter of mini goldendoodles. JAW DROP ADORABLE AND unexpectedly affordable.

And the first day I brought him home, this adorable precious little ball of fur, I looked down at my black leggings and saw SO MUCH FUR. I almost had a panic attack. “He’s not supposed to shed this much” “oh no, everyone will be so upset” “oh no, what do I do” “oh no, oh no, oh no”. I felt my throat closing and at first, I wondered if it was an allergic reaction. I popped a Zyrtec and when the feeling remained, I knew it wasn’t allergies, it was sheer fear. The dog was my idea, would my family tolerate fur? Would they tolerate me bringing in fur to our obsessively clean home? 

I had to take a breath. And I had to realize that this was not a crisis about fur. This was a crisis about me taking up space. For so much of my life (and especially marriage), I was conditioned to be cooperative, amiable, easygoing. All things that don’t create waves or trouble. All things that fit in a nice pretty box. 

I took another breath. “It’s ok to take up space. I get to be inconvenient. I get to do something and ask for forgiveness later. I can be human.”

And then I took another breath. And I accepted that there can be fur. There will be fur. There will be a mark of the puppy in my life. A mark of a puppy who is so full of love and sweetness. Let there be fur. 

And that, my friends, is not whole healing, it is just one step of healing. Because that happened 4 days ago. And today I had to learn a new lesson – that it’s ok to bark. In the same vein of fur, I panicked over my puppy’s barks. When someone would suddenly enter the room, my pup would give a few barks with a rumble. I’d immediately think, “Oh no, he shouldn’t do that. He needs to relax. Something’s wrong with him.” 

And after I noted that panic and stress, I had to snap myself out of it and say “He’s a dog! He gets to bark! He was created to bark! It’d be weirder if he never did.” It’s one thing if he incessantly barked to no end. But my little guy is so calm and quiet. He’d play with all of us, give us lots of licks, and quietly pad around the house. On top of that, just moved in with us – it’s been 4 days together so there’s so much for him to get used to. It’s inappropriate and unfair to expect him to be perfectly behaved overnight. Now is the time to love him, to help him feel safe, to learn more about him, and to steadily train him as we set a good/safe/loving foundation.

I understand that my reaction is absolutely bonkers. It’s so out of touch with reality. And that makes me sad. This panic is a conditioned response. It’s the same thought process as the fur: “I brought him into the house, so he needs to be the most well behaved, convenient pet, because I am not allowed to cause inconvenience or trouble. If I don’t get his act together, there will be hell to pay.” I often tell my clients who have been abused that part of healing is needing to reality test. After years of being gaslit, blamed, accused, it’s hard to know what is true.

And the reality testing I needed to do, was to hear my voice in conjunction with someone else’s voice tell me that people can tolerate barking. They can accept/embrace/celebrate the way God created dogs. And healthy people can accept/embrace/celebrate the way God created me. My inclination to be quiet and small goes completely against God’s intended creation of me (and my dog). My voice is good. My dog’s bark is good. It’s our tool to speak and be heard. Many have misused this tool. A different many have underutilized this tool. I want and need to learn to be inconvenient, to be loud, to be heard. 

Let the barks ring.