Listen!!!!

One of my challenges this past year was learning how to listen. On second thought, ignore the “learning how to” part; I should just say “listening.” I’ve always tried to be a good listener but now I’m not so sure I am. My need to be heard sometimes overrides the politesse of listening to others. Funny how I see one thing as a need, the other as a duty.

In typical conversation, one person talks, the other listens. Then in due course, the listener may comment or add or query or encourage but to do so, the listener momentarily becomes the speaker while the former talker becomes the listener. And so it goes, typically like a game of tennis, serve, bounce, return, bounce, return. It is an enjoyable thing, this exchange.

In my experience, many people no longer know how or want to play this conversational “tennis”. They simply want to be heard: “Listen to ME!!!” Sometimes, it’s recounting an experience, sometimes it’s a long-winded complaint, sometimes it’s a rant against some perceived injustice or fault or event from the past which must be rehashed, and sometimes it’s just verbal diarrhea along the lines of my life is more interesting than yours or allow smart ME to inform ignorant YOU! As Milton Wright wrote: “A monologue is not a conversation.”

But as a listener, do I share the blame of a monologuist conversation? Am I too busy trying to put forth a solution to the problem? Have I been there, done that? Have I not given the speaker enough time? Have I read the body language? Perhaps the speaker simply needs a listener, needs to “vent” as we like to call it today. Or maybe I, as listener, am bored and can no longer track the so-called conversation. Am I patient enough? Am I reading a pause as a finish and thus jumping in before the other's done? I’ve been guilty of the all the above.

What to do? I’ll discuss this in upcoming blogs.

Return on investment

Here's SPENCER!!







In government and business circles, there’s a phrase “return on investment,” which means in simplistic terms, the return or profit after having “invested” resources, money or time in something. I can’t help but think of the return on investment I've experienced from knowing Spencer and his people.

Every day, Spencer makes me laugh out loud, encourages me to exercise, makes me think and prompts me to learn. I experience nature in a more direct way. Every day, my walks with Spencer help me see and better appreciate my surroundings and how it changes, in big or small ways. I consider how to positively affect Spencer's behaviour, how to help him be a more socially acceptable little being in our small community and with his folks. He provides some routine in my otherwise routine-free day. I feel good about helping his Mister and Missus in this small way since they’re not currently able to exercise him as much as they’d like. Plus we’re building a friendship based on our mutual interest – their dog, Spencer! I’m learning how to train a dog and gaining some little insight into how one particular doggy brain works.

I get so many benefits from this little furry friend and he asks nothing in return but my commitment to spend some time with him. In a way, it’s like being a grandparent: I get all the joy and none of the responsibility (although I do care for his wellbeing while he’s in my care). In doing what others think of as a good deed, I’ve been the happy recipient of so much: unconditional affection, loads of fun and laughter, freely offered friendship, the loss of a few excess calories - bonus! - and a new attitude towards the wonder that is epitomized by this dog!

Deer Me!

Living in the country as we do, it goes without saying there’s lot of wildlife around even if they aren't always evident. One neighbour even reported seeing a bear ambling along our shoreline! We haven’t encountered that lumbering stranger yet, thank God but Spencer and I have encountered numerous skunks and he seems intuitively (that wonderful nose again) to know not to go after them.

One day, we had an unexpected bonus after a walk to the General Store. We strolled back past the Waba Cottage and Museum, then made a sharp left hand turn around an apple tree at Riopelle’s laneway and lo and behold, ran smack into two young deer who’d been feeding on fallen apples. One look at us and they flew effortlessly over the fence, across the road (I held my breath no cars would come), across the ditch, the other fence, then stood in Terry’s field opposite to stare back at us who had startled them. Spencer went crazy. He had a whiff of deer and was determined to get under the fence and give chase! Crazy nut…what chance? It must be the smell of “wild game” that drove him wild. What a walk that one was!

Spencer's First Love

My oldest sister was going away and we agreed to dog-sit her lhaso-apso'ish dog, Maggie. No problem. Our cat Dolly was relatively used to dogs, having had to endure many canine visitors over her 19 years of life. So long as they quickly grasped that she was the ruler of the roost all would be well, and it was so.

My youngest sister happened to be visiting us that same weekend and was agreeable to helping walk the dogs. She’d walk Maggie and I’d walk Spencer. But how would Maggie and Spencer take to each other? Well, it was love at first sight. Or maybe lust is a better word! Spencer wasn’t above making the sudden unexpected sexual advance despite his being spayed but Maggie’s snaps, barks and elusive manoeuvres managed to deter him. She didn’t hold his passion against him, however. Once past the sexual overtures, the two walked as though they’d been a pair all their lives; she, lively in her short, grey/black coat; he, in his woolly white. Spencer, of course, always tried to keep one step ahead of Maggie. Being male and dominant dog, perhaps this was typical dog behaviour. The walks were comical, amusing and interesting as both dogs sallied forth; Spencer showing Maggie his terrain, and Maggie enjoying her new surroundings, my sister and I doing the occasional waltz-like step around each other to untangle leashes. This idyllic arrangement lasted for 3 wonderful days until Maggie's folks came back and took her home.

It was almost heartbreaking to see Spencer’s anticipation as I harnessed him for his first Maggie-less walk. He thought she was waiting in the garage (which we pass through on our way to the street) as usual with my sister as had been the routine the last 3 days. He leapt from the doorway, flying over three steps and reaching the door in a single bound! No Maggie. He stood on hind feet looking out the window of the garage door. Maggie? Maggie? Out in the driveway, he frantically looked up, down, all around, sniffing at the same time. “Where’s my friend, where’s my friend?’

The good thing about dogs is they appear to accept newcomers with ease but also get over their disappointments more quickly than we humans do. Dejected, Spencer continued to look for her for much of the walk but by the time we headed home, he had accepted her disappearance with equanimity and was back to normal.

Maggie hasn’t visited again but I’m sure she will in the New Year, and when she does, will Spencer remember his first love? Stay tuned...

Mr. Mole

One wintry day with the land foot-deep in fluffy snow, my husband accompanies Spencer and I on our daily constitutional. Spence is doing his usual thing…burying his head in the snow, smelling what? Mice, moles, voles, frogs? Who knows. Next thing we know, there’s a little browny-black mole scurrying along the road. Somehow he exited but can’t find his entrance back under the snow!

Spencer is oblivious. I start to track the mole who now decides it must be safer under the arch of my husband’s boot! Now Spencer’s taken note and takes his froggy stance with the mole. As the inevitable chase begins, the mole repeatedly squeaks in terror “Eek, eek, eek!” This is not fun! This is life or death in his small world. We hold a very excited Spencer back until the mole finds an entrance to the sub-snow world and scurried safely on his way. Spencer gives us a look as if to say “You guys are no fun!”