Chapter 51
IS YOUR DOG (OR CHILD) YOUR PRISONER?
Hebrews 13:3 encourages us to, “Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.”
When you consider this passage, most people think of “criminals” who are in actual jails or prisons. They fail to consider the other types of prisons that exist. I instantly think about all the dogs that are held captive by their owners.
It’s not that dog owners are intentionally cruel; in most cases, they just lack awareness. They assume that feeding their dog daily is being a “good dog owner.” What concerns me is the lack of exercise and “solitary confinement” that a lot of dogs—and kids—are forced to endure.
A lot of dogs are stuck in the same prison cell, day-in and day-out. They never get to leave their yard or their pen. Some dogs are even chained to their “toilet.” They’re forced to live on a 10-foot chain, where their food, water, and feces all blend together.
It’s sad.
What if you were stuck in a 10-foot by 10-foot prison cell every single day? What if your supposed “loved one” only came to visit with you long enough to drop your food on the ground? What if your whole reason for being was to please that loved one? (Most dogs live and breathe to win their owner’s affection.)
Let’s think about how this same concept applies to your kids: Are they stuck in the virtual prison cell of the Internet, video games, or television? Do you spend quality time in conversation? Do you make time to plan things to do together? Things like: going camping, fishing, ice staking, hiking, swimming, or horseback riding? Do you take time to cook dinner and eat together? Have you invited your kids to help you cook dinner, clean the house, or landscape your property? If you can make “chores” a shared experience, you might be surprised that your kids will want to help.
It all goes back to quality time and words of encouragement.
Here’s a typical day in my life (with Neo):
I’ll usually wake-up with Neo staring at me. I’ll get out of bed and start my coffee. Then I’ll slumber to my office where I fire up my computer. As I start my morning programs, Neo will sit patiently to the left of my desk—staring at me. This stare means, I’m ready to go for my morning walk.
If I get “lost” in my computer work, Neo will start “pawing” at my leg. This means: Hey Pop, I really need you to pay attention to me. I’m ready to go for my morning walk. At this point, I might still have some “morning grumpies” in my system. If that’s the case, my voice-tone will reflect it, as I point to my computer screen and say, “Neo! I’m doing this (point to screen). Go lay down.”
Since I’ve spent so much quality time with Neo since he was a pup, our ability to communicate effectively is pretty amazing. He understands what I mean, tucks his head and walks into the hallway to “go lay down.”
If things are intense, he’ll put both paws on the arm of my computer chair (or my leg) and stand-up. This means, Okay Pops. The time for patience is over. You need to be more compassionate to my needs and take me for a walk. If it ever reaches this level (which doesn’t happen often), I instantly stop what I’m doing and take him for a walk. The weather sometimes plays a factor in our routine, but this is pretty much how it goes down.
Neo always has the option (especially when it’s raining) to use the bathroom in my backyard, although he prefers not to.
We enjoy a 15 minute morning walk, as he uses the bathroom in the designated areas. We come back into the house and he eats breakfast.
Usually, around noon, Neo expects to go to our neighborhood lake. I’m usually in my office on the computer, so he’ll repeat the process. He sits to the left of my computer desk and stares at me. I know this means, Hey Pop. I’d really like you to take me to the lake.
When I’m ready to go, I’ll give the command, which always starts with the word “Neo.”
“Neeeeo.” His ears will perk up. He’s sitting up, at full-attention.
The next word (on every command) is “Do.”
“Dooooooooo ...” He’ll cock his head ... full of excitement and anticipation. I’ll continue, “... you wanna go to the lake?”
He’ll cock his head the other way, while processing the command for about two or three seconds. Then he’ll start jumping up on my chest or running around in circles. We’ll get in the car and drive a mile through my neighborhood, en route to the lake. We’ll usually spend about an hour out there, as he gets plenty of exercise and finishes up his many bathroom breaks. I’ll spend time communing with nature, meditating, or reading books.
It’s a win-win experience. Neo gets out of his prison cell and I get to enrich my life at the same time. We’ll usually (weather permitting) go on another 15 to 30 minute walk in the evening.