From A Dog, I Learned Discipline, Humility & Renewed Love

That's right! I learned discipline and humility from a dog--a black labrador retriever.

During a time in my life, when I was questioning my faith and whether or not being a kind, loving, and generous person was the right way to be with people (because I was constantly being hurt by peoples' disregard for genuine caring and assistance), God sent a beautiful homeless 14-month old black Labrador Retriever to my front yard.

He came into my life immediately after I recognized that I had become resentful, mean-spirited, totally out-of-character, and loving the effectiveness of people backing-up off of me with their ungrateful, evil, and high-altitude attitudes. I started falling backwards into an abyss of sharp-tongued annihilation, even feeling hatred for certain people, places, and things. I began waiting on moments to swash-buckle my boss who was an arrogant demon--and I enjoyed every second of doing verbal battle with him. I would go as far as to invite him to terminate me. I sought-out the worst-of-the-worst to give them a taste of their own medicine--and it wasn't nice. Certain situations got so intense that I even called the police on myself. I had reached a point in my life of believing that everything about mankind and family was not good because no matter how kind and patient I was, I was constantly kicked in the heart and head, and otherwise mentally and emotionally beat-down. I gave up and started fighting back.

At the time the black labrador retriever came into my life, I had a 6-week old German Shepherd puppy, and early (6:00 a.m.) one morning, I was out in front of my house training him. He was a smart little puppy, but extremely independent. He constantly pranced, high-stepping and kicking like a show horse--he was definitely an alpha male puppy. I had my back to the street and my puppy was facing me. Suddenly he became distracted. Then I felt something bump me--ever so lightly--dead center of my butt. I slightly glanced over my left shoulder; saw something big and shiny black; and me and my puppy took off running. I ran for one solid block, never looking back, praying that whatever that was wasn't chasing us. Finally, I looked back and nothing was there.

I walked to a park near home, where we stayed for about an hour. When I returned home and as we approached, I saw a big black dog laying on my lawn near the front steps. My heart raced when he stood-up. I stopped. He paused just looking at me, swishing his tail from side-to-side; then it started moving in a circular motion. His ears went forward and he cocked his head to the left as if he was wondering why I was scared. I had just moved into my home and did not know any of my neighbors. I panicked not knowing what to do. After about a 30 to 40-minute stand-off, I got the nerve to knock on a neighbors door who called my husband for me and asked him to open the back door so I could get in the house out of range of the dog.

My husband opened the back gate, and as I (and my neighbor, Mr. Mayes) moved towards the gate, the black lab moved with us. Then he looked up and saw my husband and his tail went berserkly in 360-rotation--his whole back-end was wagging. We could tell he was happy, but my husband ran and slammed the gate closed. With my puppy tucked in my bra, me and Mr. Mayes climbed a van parked across the alley from my back gate. We were out-of-control laughing because the black lab was standing at the gate working his head inquisitively while whipping his tail waiting for my husband to open the gate.

My husband went to the front yard and called the dog--who dashed to the front yard--and I leaped from the van and ran into the back yard.


This dog stayed in front of my house all day. He would get up to chase people. My husband would go out front and call him back to get him to stop chasing people--walking, on bikes, or getting in and out of their cars. I called animal control all day. It was a hot August day and we knew the dog needed help, but he was so big and tall, we were afraid of him, especially after he started chasing people. Each time he chased somebody, he always returned to my front lawn and laid down--this went on all day. At one point, when my husband had to leave home, he waited until the dog chased somebody then he ran to his car.

By 5:00 p.m., I called the police because my husband had left home, and I didn't know what this dog would do. He had been lounging on the lawn and chasing people all day.

The police arrived and tried to lure him into a squad car. The dog started running back and forth from the police. He came back to my front yard every time. Then a policeman asked me to give him some water and food. I filled a quart-pot with water and gave the policeman a Subway turkey sandwich. The dog drank two quarts pot of water then gobbled down the sandwich. By now, about 5 squad cars had arrived and blocked off the streets in all directions because they thought he'd really start running after he got food and water. (Neighbors were everywhere.)

A few minutes later, my husband drove up. The dog ran straight-away to my husband; sat at attention at his feet for about 5 seconds; jumped him licking him to the ground. It was a Kodak moment.

A policewoman asked my husband to cokes him into getting into the squad car. My husband slid into the car and called to the dog. The dog cocked his head to the left, swirled around, and ran straight to me, and I ran straight into the arms of the closest policeman. The dog skidded to a halt. He was a thinking dog; very strategic.

A policeman stated to my husband: He's made his decision. You got yourself dog. Let's put in your yard. As soon as the policeman said that, the dog sat down close to me and the policeman who I was hiding behind, allowing the other officer to grab him by the flea collar he was wearing and lead him to my back yard.

Right away, I noticed that the dog was gorgeous. His coat was jet-black, swirled close-cropped hair. He was shiny--simply elegant. Very well-behaved; a very loving dog; and he was very patient and loving with my puppy--who was trying to bite his throat out as soon as he moved into the yard.

My yard was full of police and neighbors, and everybody wanted him. I informed everyone I would try to locate the owner. Everyone left.

Then, about 30 minutes later, policemen in all types of vehicles--marked/unmarked cars, uniform and plain clothes; paramedics in ambulances, and even a couple fire trucks showed up at the front-door and back yard. When we got outside, a female paramedic by the name of Collette was parked next to my six-foot fence standing atop her ambulance talking to the dog--and he was standing there listening to her. The policemen, paramedics, and firemen that were at the front door ran to the back yard--all of them shouting they wanted the dog if we didn't. It was a circus. There were so many law enforcement and first-responders at my house, Leroy Martin, Chicago's Superintendent of Police [at the time] who lived around the corner from me, showed up to see what was going on.

As I opened the back gate for everybody--approximtely 25-30 people, Collette jumped from atop the ambulance over the fence into the yard announcing she was in vetenarian school, asking if she could examine him.

The dog greeted her and every single person in the yard very lovingly. The dog was especially friendly with all the males--responding to any command given him by anybody. The dog was well-trained to voice and hand signals.

Collette commanded him to lay and roll-over onto his side. The dog complied. She gloved-up and began examining him: Mouth, teeth, paws, belly, skin, rectum, penis, ears, eyes, etc.--and the dog allowed all of it. After the 20-minute exam, Collette announced the dog was in excellent health, as well as sporting a pedicure. She cried while begging us for him. Several policemen offered to pay us to mate him with other pure labs. Others offered as much as $1,500.00 for the dog. We were overwhelmed with request.

Over the following 3 weeks, contacted a vetenarian clinics, and all reported after several days that all their owners of black labs had not lost their dog. And every day for 3 weeks, Collette visited the dog. She really wanted him. But also over that 3-week period, the dog grew on me. He was so well-behaved and had the patience of a saint with my puppy who was trying to kill him.

My new black lab walked around almost every minute of the day with a puppy hanging from his throat--twisting and turning until he got tired and dropped to the floor or ground. My puppy would bite him. Kick his food and water over. Attack! Attack! Attack! But my new dog never laid a tooth or paw on him. Rather, he would lick my puppy to calm him down or lick him until he fell asleep.

By the second week of having him, I recognized my new dog was an extremely humble and tolerant a dog. His loving ways constantly reduced me to tears. Then one night, I was looking at him and he was looking at me. I said to him: "You're my new baby. God sent you to me, didn't he?" He rose up onto my lap and placed him huge head on my chest, and started making a throaty sound as though he was answering me in the affirmative. I said to him: "Now I know why you wouldn't go with the police." Then he licked me like crazy.

By week-three, Collette asked again to take possession of him. But by now, my husband made it clear he was keeping the dog.

Over the next several weeks, I noticed the dog remained consistently loving and tolerant of my puppy. He was very disciplined, well-trained to a science--he understood everything. He even created his own job: Sniffing every inch of my car whenever I returned home. When he was done, he wanted to be paid with a treat. He waited for our elderly neighbor to arrive home from work around 11:00 p.m. (She worked at Walgreens.) He would announce her arrival and demanded that we let him out so that he could escort her to her door--every night! So that he could see her in her yard without obstruction, he tore-out the top half of a plank of wood dead-center of the fence so that he could see her and she could touch him--and nobody was permitted to be in her yard or touch her garbage can except her. He would snap on us if we entered her yard or touched her garbage can.

In fact, the dog tore out planks of wood from the fence in every direction so that he could see outside the yard. When my husband repaired the fence in each direction, the dog removed the new planks and put them on the patio. He acted more like a person than a dog.

I, without a doubt, knew God sent him to me to restore my faith, and to teach me discipline and humility. He renewed/restored my natural ability to love. He taught me many things over the course of 14.5 years he was with me. He lived far beyond the life-span of a Labrador Retriever, and he remained true to his nature: The epitome of love, discipline, humility, tolerance, and a fierce protector.

In previous postings, I've already shared how I used "love" to help change my mother's abusive ways; and how I used "love" to reach and teach troubled kids in my life. Now I going to share with you how I used "love" to capture the trust and eventual "love" of my current German Shepherd that I adopted from the Anti-Cruelty Society ("ACS").

In December, 2010 I was cruising the ACS website, shopping for a puppy as I was ready for another dog after my labrador and sheperd two died in 2007 and 2008, respectively. They were both 14.5 years old when they died.

While cruising looking at many different dogs, I came across a picture/profile of a 6-month old German Shepherd named "Camila." She was plastered in a corner of her kennel with an expression on her face that shouted: "Oh no! Please don't hurt me. I'm so scared." And the caption under her picture read: "This is Camila. She recently came to us as an abused animal. While she is sweet, she is shy and does not trust anyone. But we believe an ideal loving home would be great for her." Her eyes beckoned me.

It was a cold and snowy Friday evening, but that didn't stop me from going to get her.

When I arrived, she was still available. She was terrified of me; thin as a pencil; and her coat was dull and drier than a power house.

We started the paperwork immediately. When the associate asked me what her new name would be, we both said at the same time "Rendy"--that was amazing to us. She actually read my mind. We laughed and agreed on the name. But, I couldn't take her home until the following Monday because she had to be spaded.

I picked her up that following Monday. When I got her home. She instantly could smell the scent of my previous dogs, and her terror intensified. She was afraid of everything, including sounds.

My family looked at one another, then at me, but they didn't say anything to me about her. But I knew what they were thinking: "Why in the hell would you go get a dog like this?" We all laugh about it now, and they all confirmed that that is exactly what they were thinking when I brought her home, but did not want to hurt my feelings.

For months that followed, I constantly talked to her. I showered her with lots of love, rubbed and hugged her endlessly each time learned a new command. Finally, she began to trust us, especially me. Now, she's still a little skittish, but trusting. She's a great watchdog, and most importantly, she is a prissy, loving diva who demonstrates "love." She even offers to share a treats with anyone. She's another example of "Love can fix it."

If you ever wonder[ed] why your parent(s), your spouse, or a friend never tell you or show you that they love you, perhaps it is due to the fact that they never experienced/received love and affection themselves. A person cannot give that which they have not received.

If you are familiar with "love," share it. All of us need it.

Stay strong! Love long!

Love, Saishe! Holla-back!