Tick

For a little over a decade the Nave clan has been a two-dog family. Our Boarder Collie, Cinder (also known as Fish Stick on account of her fowl breath) was hand picked on a farm seven counties from our own. She was one of ten in that litter and everything about her adoption into our family was intentional. She arrived to a home newly prepared with a kennel, fluffy pillow, and plush toys…as well as owners who had read a manual on how to care for her unique needs. Our Black Lab, Pearl (also known as Puma, Garbage Disposal, Prewash, Bulldozer, Stealth, Biological Tripping Hazard, and Demon) entered our family under very different circumstances. She was spotted on a bitter cold January day, standing disoriented in the center of a busy intersection. With thoughts of rescuing the puppy only from her current peril, she was whisked into The Loser Cruiser (our mini-van). Not looking to extend our family, multiple attempts were made to find another arrangement…each of which failed miserably. For better or worse, this disoriented mess was ours and she found herself to be a Nave at an extremely chaotic juncture in our lives. We weren’t ready for her and as a result of the abuse she was subjected to by her previous owners, she wasn’t ready for us. A mere few days after her capture, Garrett was scheduled for surgery. Like most surgeries of this nature, the recovery process was grueling. Pearl found safety next to him as she sensed that he had no power to inflict harm on her in his stupor. As providence would have it, these two spent the next week and a half healing together.

Despite our dogs equal treatment henceforth; remnants of their initial days on earth emerge in their personalities. I saw this no clearer then in an incidence last fall. Like most mornings at Mom and Dad’s, I awoke with a black lab stretched out and pressed against the length of my back and a small collie sharing my pillow. A gliding motion of my fingers through their fur stirred a happy tapping of tails welcoming the new day. The gliding was interrupted by a bump on the scruff of Cinder’s neck. After closer examination, the said bump was confirmed to be a tick. I announced my find to her and like any good doctor, explained the removal process. An ideal patient, she followed my instructions verbatim, lying quietly as the extraction ensued. In under a minute the parasite was free of her flesh and flushed promptly down the toilet.

Returning to the originally scheduled affection fest, I happened upon a similar bump on Pearl. The same declaration was made over her and I went about my business of removing the critter. Pearl wanted to help, actually she was insistent. She flung her head over her shoulder and began nibbling at the surgical area. Amused, I pushed her head out of the way and reassured her that I had everything under control. I evidently wasn’t convincing enough because she promptly returned to her self-biting behavior. I fought with her on the issue for a while and but then resolved that neither of us was getting anywhere. I ceased my assistance and verbalized that she was welcome to do it by herself. Five minutes passed, then ten. I watched in pity as she wore herself out. At the fifteen-minute mark, she laid her head down in utter defeat. “Want my help now?” I inquired. Convinced that she understood, Pearl’s body went limp in surrender.

Two dogs, both from intelligent breeds…why the stark difference in behavior? I could be totally wrong in this, but I wonder if Cinder is trusting because she has never had a need that wasn’t met. She has no reason to fear. Contrary to this, Pearl learned to be the lord of her own life. She needed to take control to regulate her own existence under the abusive hand of her previous owner. While there is plenty of evidence in favor of her trusting us, her pattern of behavior is stuck.

I run into Pearl like humans daily. They have been shaped by the hurt in their lives and therefore carry deep-seated attitudes that usher them to orient themselves inward for protection. Much like my lab, they wear themselves out with their tenuous control. I am not absolved from this group.

I have a tick and I’ve known about it for years. It drains me of my peace and joy. It hinders my ability to love fully and thus limits my relationships. God has radically awaken me to the multiple layers of controlling, grasping ‘noise’ in my life that creates a defensive posture through which I attack a problem instead of allow Him to intervene. I’ve been biting at myself senselessly. This life stealing sin still resides and I acknowledge the insufficiency of my own resources and the inadequacy of my ability to maintain order in my life. I am tired, God is not… and so I ask with all the heart I can muster “Free me from care of myself.”