Heads or Tails

Max is a complex individual. Sometimes he likes having his head scratched, sometimes his tummy.

Just kidding, he really is far more complex than that. Odds are I have simplified him and his life through writing about him. I tend to focus on his chaotic energy when going for walks or his bottomless pit of a stomach and the corresponding desire to eat anything he can find. These features are certainly true, but I am often reminded that Max is more than a shedding, scavenging, compassionate goofball.

Just the other night we put on the movie Fantasia. While the kids were asking a million questions, I looked over and saw Max calmly attentive to the serene music and captivating colors. Maybe he was simply zoning out or imagining he was in the calm, quiet world of his fantasies, but I like to think there are many different sides to Max: the run around and chase after squirrels side and the contemplative, enjoying classical music side.

I know there is at least a side of Max that loves attention. He always bothers guests endlessly for pats and tummy rubs. And I know there is the side of Max that craves time to himself. Some nights and mornings I have to look in every room of the house for where he is hiding to make sure he is not left outside all day or all night. There is the side of Max always ready for adventure and the side willing to sit with anyone who is sick or sad.

Max has a head and a tail, literally and symbolically – multiple, sometimes contrasting, aspects to his personality and presence in the world. Through his own complexity, Max has taught me to look for and value the complexity in everyone around me. No human is a stereotypical, one dimensional character. We all have heads and tails, metaphorically. We all have joys and sorrows, serenity and chaos, doubts and certainties swirling within us.

I think my relationship with Max is only made better when I am open to his complexity. When I don’t try to narrowly understand him as one type of thing. And Max has taught me the same applies to all my relationships.

At the same time, I see the consistency holding Max’s complexity together. He may have a head and a tail, but they are both sides to the same dog. Observing Max’s consistent traits helps me understand him just as well as paying attention to his diverse qualities. And thankfully Max is consistently loving and gentle and joyful.

Max has taught me to look for the consistent qualities in the people around me along with the diversity. Observing the complexity helps me have some compassion with myself and others – recognizing one action is not the fullness of who I am and may be shared out of a sense of pain. Observing the consistency helps me know whether or not to include that person closely in my life, because there are some consistent traits that are simply not healthy or helpful. And when I see some of those unhealthy consistencies emerging in me, I can work on flipping the coin and cultivating other, kinder, more loving dispositions.

This is one of the harder lessons from Max for me to live out. It is hard to be open to more of a person than I initially see or hear – to live in the fuzzy realm of complexity. It is just as hard to make firm decisions about whether or not I want a certain kind of consistent trait in my life, or how I can develop consistent traits that are beneficial to myself and the world around me. But the more I try to see both, the more I see the beauty in who Max is and who the people around me are.

So, thank you Max for showing me so many complex sides of who you are and for sharing your consistent loving presence with me. Thank you for challenging me to be open to the complexities around me as well as being aware of the consistent truths we all live out.

The More Things Change…

Max and I don’t take as many pictures anymore. Last month we went to an entire festival dedicated to dogs (Pawtoberfest) and this was the only picture I took of him.

He loved the adventure. There were dogs everywhere, interesting smells everywhere, and it was a beautiful day to be outside. My family and I also had a great time. Then, on the way out, Erin asked if I had taken any pictures of Max, and I realized I hadn’t. I got the one above which could be him in any generic park on any day.

As I look back on old photos, a part of me laments that I have gotten out of the practice. When it was just Max and me in a small apartment, I had nothing else to do but take pictures of him. And I’m sure he absolutely loved it.

But things change, and for whatever reason (kids, different work rhythms, less sitting around in the evenings) I take far fewer pictures of the dog now. I’d like to think that I am taking less photos because I am more present in the moment, ignoring my phone and enjoying whatever is happening around me. 

When I think of what Max would say about the change, I don’t think he would agree with my hopeful reasoning. He’d be too nice to outright accuse me of paying less attention to him, and would probably let me know the truth gently – we are in a different stage of life, one that means less pictures and less time solely focused on him.

But Max has also taught me through his consistent presence with me, that such a change is not inherently bad. Max has taught me we can still love each other fully even if there are different ways to express it and less pictures to document it.

Max turned 11 years old this month. I’ve been blessed by his presence in my life since he was just shy of 2 years old. I won’t do the math, but I’m betting that puts us in old married couple relationship stage in dog years. We still have adventures for sure, but Max has taught me that our lives are very different now than they were when we met. 

Again, Max has taught me how such change is good. The changes have brought several new people and new expressions of love into Max’s life. They have brought backyards where he can run around more freely. They have brought new cities to explore. They have brought a never-ending stream of crumbs he can gobble up. 

At the same time, Max has taught me to be more aware of the change, so that we can recapture anything that was valuable which might have slipped through the cracks over those years. Change is good, and so is evaluating the change so that we appreciate, learn, and rediscover what means most in the moment. I may not take as many pictures of Max these days, but we do go to Pawtoberfest, and navigate new forms of chaos, and track down new smells around the neighborhood.

And maybe after today I will be more intentional about watching him be his old, goofy self, and then capture it all like we used to do. Or, if I don’t take the photo, I’ll at least make sure I cherish the moment in whatever new way Max and I have developed to appreciate and learn from each other.

So, thank you Max for growing with me and changing with me. Thank you for filling my photo app for 9 years and counting. And even when the photos grow fewer, thank you for filling my life in new and more complete ways every day.

Dog Days of Summer (Part 1)

For Max, every day of summer is a dog day – and not just because he is a dog.

I actually found out that the “dog days” of summer came to be because of the presence of the constellation Sirius, not because dogs like Max lie around panting, but since the phrase has taken on the other meaning of heat induced exhaustion, I think it is fair to use it that way.

I have no doubt that Max feels some extra exhaustion these days from the intense Texas heat. And laying around is what he does best (second only to eating). To be fair, he does a lot of laying around even in the nicer seasons, but the dog days of summer are a reality in our house.

In fact, the past couple of weeks we got out a box fan for our living room, and it did not take long for Max to figure out how to make full use of it. He may be a hot dog, but he’s still a very smart one.

I’m impressed every year how well he handles the heat with all his fur, with or without a fan, and that even with the heat, he still wants to get out and go on walks.

Max faces that heat head on, and has taught me the value of doing the same. He has taught me to get up even when I don’t feel like it, to jump into things even when I am tired, and not to let laziness be an excuse. Whether it is taking him on walks even in these dog days of summer, or expending a little extra energy to be present and active where I am needed, Max continually reminds me that sometimes the things most worth doing are the hardest or most uncomfortable.

He has taught me that even in the uncomfortable heat of conflict or injustice or humbly admitting that I am wrong, I have to walk out and address it. It is easy for me to want to stay inside my little bubble of life, to keep myself cool and at ease, but I am learning the value of stepping out into spaces where I am uncomfortable in order to address the ways I have contributed to problems and broken systems.

It would be nice to stay inside and not deal with those uncomfortable things, but if I did, the poop would just pile up – literally with Max or figuratively.

But Max has also taught me not to charge out recklessly. Because I don’t want either of us to overheat, we have to push back our walk time until pretty late. I am usually as anxious as he is to go on the walk so that it is not the last thing I do before bed, but so many days the heat just leaves no other options.

And with all that, Max has taught me to be aware and responsive to what is going on around me, not just charge out and be overwhelmed or unprepared and cause even more harm.

This is of course a very practical lesson as we navigate these dog days, but it is also a lesson as I navigate all those uncomfortable matters. Max has taught me to be attentive to what is happening in the world, recognize that things are changing, and be willing to adapt, even if it is not how I’ve always done things or thought things to be.

Sometimes the life-giving option is not to charge out the door thinking I have all the answers, but rather to pay attention to the temperature of a matter and seek to learn from whatever is going on.

Now, that does not mean we stay in, isolated from whatever is happening, as tempting as that is. Max has taught me that even when things are almost unbearably hot, it is worth it to get out and walk – to do so thoughtfully and flexibly, to listen and learn before moving, but still to get out and walk.

The dog days of summer can be brutal, but Max has taught me that living in this space and time means we have to face them. He has taught me to step out and be a little uncomfortable in order to connect with others and live a more life-giving way.

So, thank you Max for teaching me how to face these uncomfortable dog days of summer head on, and in a way that does not add to the harm. I’ll happily sweat (or pant) it out with you.