We’ve posted about Lola before, but I feel that the topic should be brought up again.
Lola is our dog. She was Brian’s dog. Prior to that, she was Brian’s ex’s dog. And prior to that, she was a puppy mill breeder dog– which is why Lola has some major issues.
I understand that Lola has major issues. I understand that Lola’s pivotal developmental years were spent in a traumatizing environment. I do. She ducks when we clank metal (like keys), she runs away and hides when we use fingernail clippers, and she does not play well with many other four legged creatures. Lola is a little screwed up.
I should accept that fact and move on. I should love her in her brokenness. And I do. I feed Lola. I take Lola out. We go on walks. I sneak her cheese (don’t tell Brian). These things Lola accepts. Sometimes, Lola will even play with me– BUT only when Brian is home and in the room with us. Because the sad truth is, unless Brian is in the same room as me, Lola won’t even look at me. I don’t exist.
When Brian goes upstairs, Lola goes upstairs. When Brian leaves the room, Lola leaves the room. And when Brian leaves the house, Lola sits by the door for hours, awaiting his return. You may be thinking this is cute. Aww– Lola loves her master. So sweet– she’s so attached to him.
Personally, I don’t think those thoughts. Nope. Instead, I do something really logical and mature: I get my feelings hurt. Seriously. I’ve known this dog and her behavioral idiosyncrasies for over a year and still, I get my feelings hurt. Sometimes, I cry. Seriously.
I’ve considered getting us another dog– a dog that I raise and spoil so that it loves ME. But Lola is so non-social that it would have to be a really special dog. Plus, Lola is already a handful in the clean-up department and costs us a lot of money– do I want more clean-up and more expense? Probably not. But I do want the love of a dog.
There. I said it. That’s what this post is really about. It isn’t enough that my family loves me. It isn’t enough that Brian loves me. And it isn’t enough that the Lord above loves me enough to call me His own. Nope. Lindsey needs the love of a canine to feel complete. How sad is that?
I mean, really– what does this say about me? Where am I placing my own personal value if I cry because Lola wants to stay in her crate when Brian goes to work? I need a heart change. I need to be able to see how beautiful it is that she has attached to Brian, and that in this life where she was abused and scared and mistreated, she is able to love– that’s an awesome thing! And without puppy therapy! I need to be able to see her for the broken creature she is and love and care for her regardless of her response. I mean, that’s what I’m called to do with my neighbor, and what I’m called to do with my husband– so shouldn’t I be able to do that with Lola?