Walking My Dog & My Walk with God
Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,
You may recall that in my Rector’s Letter of June 28th I announced that our dog, Coco, was about to embark on a “six-week adventure of self-discovery and inner peace.” Anne had found a boarding school for reactive dogs where, among other positives, the trainer guaranteed that if he couldn’t help Coco, we wouldn’t owe him a Loonie. It seemed worth a shot—and long overdue. So despite a measure of trepidation, we delivered Coco and her accoutrements a few days before our summer travels began.
It was our first extended time away from Coco since we adopted her four and a half years ago. How would she cope with the separation? And how would we?
If I’m honest, Anne seemed downright cheerful to be delivered of the burden of care for our beloved beast. I, on the other hand, worried that Coco might develop Stockholm Syndrome, identifying so strongly with her “captor” that she would renounce all love for our family and refuse to come home with us. Or, conversely, that she might suffer from Boarding School Syndrome, returning utterly broken by our abandonment, and forever burdened by even more anxiety than before.
A screenshot from one of our “pupdates,” showing Coco enjoying a play date with other dogs at boarding school, something unthinkable eight weeks ago.
Throughout our vacation, I eagerly looked forward to “pupdates” from the trainer featuring videos and anecdotes on Coco’s progress. And progress she did indeed make, although the trainer extended Coco’s stay by nearly two weeks (at no extra charge) to allow some firming up of skills. The full extent of her transformation was demonstrated when we all took a leisurely walk up and down the busy sidewalks of Roncesvalles Avenue.
Picture the before: A volatile powder-keg of a dog, slender but strong, pulling hard on the leash unless escorted by a person on either side like a prisoner heading to trial. At the mere sight of another dog—even blocks away—she would lunge and snap and growl and bark. Or at a jogger coming up quickly from behind. Or at any of the many things to which she took fearful exception. The dog once dubbed “the holy puppy” had developed a most unholy set of fears, such that we were constantly on alert, ready to cross streets and hide in laneways to avoid embarrassing scenes of aggression. She had survived distemper as a newborn puppy only to approach starvation from a chronic medical condition that took months to diagnose, so the fears were hard-earned and hard-wired, but the result was a deeply anxious and difficult dog.
And now? Coco is able—mostly—to walk along a crowded sidewalk and not get spooked by skateboarders, or snarl at other dogs, or chase squirrels and pigeons, or act unfriendly towards strangers. She even attended an outdoor concert yesterday without incident, lying on the grass outside of the Royal Conservatory of Music on Bloor Street and enjoying the sounds of live jazz. She matches our stride, whether slow or fast, and takes her cues from us. It is nothing short of a miracle. Coco will likely always be beset by fear and anxiety. The difference is, she has begun learning to lean on the judgement of those around her.
(The key word here is “begun.” Coco is not yet independently skilled, and we would ask that you simply ignore her unless invited to interact, while we work to form her new behaviours into reliable habits on which we all can depend.)
Many people believe that obedience, whether for dogs or for children, can only be taught through rewards and punishments, using the good old-fashioned “carrot and stick” method. But our trainer demonstrated a simple treat-free, pain-free way of communicating that works by gently but firmly recalling Coco’s attention to the person holding her leash. Instead of obsessing about the many potential dangers beyond her control, Coco is learning to direct her focus to the people who are charged with keeping her safe. To trust in us and take her cues from us. She is discovering that the world feels a lot less threatening with us at her side, and on her side. She has permission to let go of her anxieties and experience the joys of being and doing in this crazy city that we call home. Such freedom!
What’s true of canines, I have observed, is also true of humans. Like Coco, we all want to find safety in a hostile, chaotic, and confusing world. We all want, we all need, a companion who is steadfast, reliable, and true. Someone who helps us become less anxious and more joyful, softer of heart, more giving and loving. Someone who helps us let down our guard and become more fully the people we were created to be, God’s beloved, formed in God’s own image, redeemed by our Father’s only-begotten Son, and led by the Holy Spirit.
To be clear, God isn’t at the other end of our leash, yanking our chain and tossing us treats. An analogy goes only so far. But as Christians, we are called to walk in faith, looking to the person of Jesus Christ as our trustworthy, reliable, and clear-sighted guide. We are asked to turn our eyes away from the distractions of this world, away from our fears and anxieties, away from hatred, away from malice, away from evil and spite, and focus instead on the One, the Triune God, who knows and loves us and walks with us to the end of our days.
Next time I’m out walking my dog, I’m going to reflect on what my own “walk with God” is like. Do I really put my “whole trust in his grace and love,” as the Baptismal Covenant puts it? And how about you? You don’t need to have a dog or go on a walk to examine your own walk with God.
Finally, it’s important to recognize that our walk with God isn’t just a solitary hike in the woods, though that may be part of it. The Church exists so that we can walk with God and put our trust in our Lord together, in the power of the Holy Spirit. So think about who you want to join you as you walk with God, maybe work on your relationships with those you’d rather not have tagging along with you, and give thanks for those in your life and, I hope, at St. Thomas’s, who constantly redirect our attention to the Source of every good thing and every perfect gift, including the gift of each other.
Yours in Christ’s service,
N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector
