deb roush

I think – and believe most dog lovers would agree – that our pups teach us so many lessons. This blog, however, isn’t about loyalty, forgiveness, patience or unconditional love. This is about how a dog is teaching me how to be who I want to be.

I struggle with perfection. I’m too much of a people-pleaser. And, to top it off, I have a “touch” of an anxiety disorder. These are issues I work on to consistently to make myself more tolerable to, well, myself, as well as those around me.

Last year, I made the impulsive decision to adopt a dog. Another dog. And at the very worst time. Our Maltese-Yorkie mix had surgery and had to stay at the veterinarian’s office for weeks because she wasn’t mending like she should; my workload was at an all-time high; my husband, Terry, was out-of-town; and my dad was recovering from a hip replacement.

Because of the latter, my sister, Jennifer, was visiting Little Rock from North Carolina to help Mom and me. She was introduced to the homeless  puppy I had chosen, the one who had been rescued and somehow lived through emaciation, mange and being the runt of 27 puppies “who might not make it” after being kept in an outdoor “pen.” And she reinforced my thought that the small, plain black dog with brown eyes would be a perfect fit. The dog had lived at our vet’s office for months while she recovered, and that’s where we met her.

Violet. My sister suggested the name, and it stuck.

Terry and I had been thinking about another dog – a big dog – one similar to Alex, the Bullmastiff we owned early in our marriage. Or Jake, the 75-pound Catahoula who had passed away the previous year. Perhaps a Golden Retriever who could easily join me on hikes or enjoy time on our boat on the lake.

Violet is none of those. My sister called her “long dog” when we brought her home. Laura, my favorite person at our vet’s office, said she “might” get to 40 pounds. Because of her length and short legs, riding home in the car with her Jennifer jokingly said she was probably a Dachadore – a weenie dog-Labrador mix. We laughed, but inside I was seriously nervous that Violet would not be able to join me on hikes up my favorite and nearby Pinnacle Mountain or fit our lifestyle in general.

Our Morkie came home, Dad recovered and Violet grew to 38 pounds. I sent photos to Jen who then said she was a “Boxador” – the lab in her was obvious and she was taking on a more square, Boxer-like face. And then her legs lengthened, her tail became fluffy and, well, without genetic testing it would be impossible to identify what she really is. That’s when I decided she would simply be “mine.” So I call her a “Schippador,” a Schipperke-Labrador mix. Schipperkes are Belgian dogs, and my mom is a native Belgian and we’re proud of our heritage. I brag at the dog park that she is a designer dog.

Violet came to us just more than a year ago, and in that time she has become the ideal companion on my long hikes. She loves swimming and our boat. But the best thing is she has helped me with some of life’s struggles. She didn’t have to be a purebred Bullmastiff or Golden Retriever to be wonderful. I can’t own Violet and a perfect home. Her muddy paws and shedding hair prevent that. But I’m in love with Violet, and am learning – slowly – to let go of perfection.

And she doesn’t have to be a people-pleaser. In fact, she is far from it. Violet is  friendly, but clearly prefers Terry and me.  She even growls or barks at those who pass by our front door. So I am beginning to remember – like her – to spend more time with my favorite people, and that there are some out there I probably shouldn’t snarl at, but they would be best avoided or allowed to walk on by – people-pleasing be damned.

And that anxiety part, well that’s where Violet helps most. She’s always up for a good walk, hike up a mountain or swim in any lake – or puddle – for that matter. After time doing any one of those with her, I can’t help but feeling more relaxed.

Violet is a exactly who  she wants to be – a fun, stick-loving, friendly, non-perfect, anxiety-free, non-people-pleasing Schippador. She is teaching me to be the person I want to be, too.

And that’s more like my dog.