Domesticated

Before the house begins to stir, Saturday morning is a favorite time to sneak away and write. It is too soon in the weekend to feel the Sunday Scaries (most of the time), and it is usually too early in the day to be emotionally or physically distracted. Most importantly, it is a routine that helps me build muscle.

The dogs usually stay asleep as I move from the bedroom to the office. Occasionally, they let me know they’d prefer to go outside. They have business to conduct.

Dogs are fascinating creatures. Every dog I’ve ever had has shown some level of affection. Early one morning, I considered the long process humans took domesticating dogs. Selectively breeding them for various jobs. Some dogs still work, but over the years, the work for many of them consolidated to house mate.

The dogs let me know they wanted outside. I let them out. They signaled they wanted back in. They let me know they needed fresh water. I was made aware that they were hungry and would like to eat early.

I wondered which of us actually domesticated the other. I bought this safe shelter where they live. I hunt and gather, if you will, their every meal. It is served in a dish precisely to their liking. I have an abundance of water and a predator-free play area for them. We even remove that previously mentioned business from their play area with no help from them.

I have not decided on this position, but it made me consider what else I might have upside down. There are situations where I move through without questioning the understanding of the relationship.

What circumstance might improve if I invert my understanding of them? Where am I being trained, but think I am the trainer? Which relationships would benefit from greater balance?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.