Sassy Breaks

I’m heading into the home stretch of my second book, which I have affectionately been calling The Penny Book, because I don’t have a real title yet. It’s a memoir of sorts about the incredible life of our dog, Penny, who is no longer with us. Through her memories, as told from ‘the other side,’ she’s sharing her reflections on life and the lessons she learned along the way.

It’s been cathartic to write. I find I’m learning things about myself and others (and Penny!) as I do my best to translate what I think her life’s events meant and what she learned from them. Or maybe it’s really what I learned from them.

But no matter. I’m doing my best to channel her voice and what it seemed to me, from my limited human perspective, she would have told us, had she been able to speak.

Maybe because I am deep into the creative process (working on Chapter 12 of 15!) that I’m especially attuned to “lessons from dogs.” Perhaps I’m just projecting onto otherwise benign dog behavior the things I need to learn. Maybe it wasn’t just Penny who could teach us things, but that most pets (all pets?) have a certain type of wisdom to share, if we are attuned to it.

If we listen.

While our son is on vacation, my husband and I are watching his dog, Sassy. I’ve written about her before – she’s the dog we fostered that our son adopted, giving us our first “grand doggy!” She’s been through a lot in her eight years on this earth: multiple litters of puppies in a puppy mill, a couple of surgeries, many teeth pulled…and who knows what else? As a result, she’s a little slow to trust, just like our Penny was when she first came to us.

I can relate.

I, too, given my own history (as described in my first book, Wreckage), take a while to trust others and my trust is easily broken at signs of trouble. If our natural human reaction to fear, stress, and trauma falls into the categories fight, flight, or freeze, I’m a fighter. I can easily erect defenses, ready to strike back, if I perceive a threat. This tendency, while appropriate and effective in some circumstances, can wreak havoc on relationships and escalate minor disagreements when not in check. Luckily, as I’ve matured and (I hope) gotten a little wiser and more skillful, I can more easily recognize when my natural reaction is actually an OVER reaction. When I do, I can adjust.

Sassy has a different approach to stress.

When she’s afraid (which is often!), she’s not a fighter. She doesn’t freeze. She flees, but in an almost delicate, light manner. She’s not frantically trying to escape the things she fears; she’s just removing herself from the situation, moving to a safer place. She’s taking a Sassy Break. There’s some kind of lesson in that.

I’ve always seen the “flight” choice as the wimpy way out, the thing the weakling would do. The spineless choice next to my macho approach. But Sassy is showing me another way.

When I feel challenged by a particular opinion being aired, judgment being made, or a sideways glance being cast, I can simply extricate myself from the situation. I can, like Sassy, find a more comfortable place, where I can consider my options before I choose to respond.

It’s the Sassy version of counting to ten or waiting overnight to send the angry email.

I can turn off the incendiary video, mute the news, walk away from the angry customer, or take a “time out” from an argument. When I’m in a more serene state of mind and my nervous system has calmed down, I’ll make better decisions. I’ll be a better parent, partner, family member, and part of the community. I won’t contribute to the fear, angst, upset, and anger around me.

Wouldn’t the world be a much more peaceful place if we could all take Sassy breaks?