Separation

The day after Tibe bit the other dog, the other dog’s owner called me and threatened me. If I did not rehome Tibe or put him down, she would file a complaint with Animal Control, and they would put him down. I explained that I was going to do neither of the options she offered me; I said that I had a large dog with huge puppy energy and a dog aggression issue that could be solved through training. I said repeatedly, I was not at a point where I felt he needed to be rehomed or put down. The truth is, on that day, my conviction about training over rehoming (euthanizing him was never an option and I do not even understand a world in which people consider that an option for a dog who bit another dog) was more out of defiance over being told what to do.

I have always been defiant. I have always resisted authority. It may be one of my greatest character flaws. That particular day in October, I was galled that someone who did not know me at all could call me up on the telephone and threaten me with an impossible choice. It was even more galling that she used her “credentials” as an attorney (she works for the justice department) to try and add teeth to her threats. I was not going to be bullied by someone. I was not going to do what she suggested, to comply with her threats. The truth is, my reaction at that time was more about defiance than about love for Tibe.

Tibe was exhausting, the training was intense, and, at that moment, it was not paying any particular rewards. If Tibe had been a twelve pound chihuahua with good prospects of being adopted by someone else, I might have thought about rehoming him. He was not a twelve pound dog, however, and I was not going to do what someone else suggested. I’ve heard this described as defiant opposition disorder. I love how we make the personality traits of strong women into disorders; I love how we pathologize people who refuse to conform. All this to say, that day in October, my unequivocal commitment to Tibe was mainly my own defiance. My actual commitment to the dog was modest. It could have been undermined, chipped away. Some might even say, then I could have been talked into reason.

What turned me away? The zealotry of the opposition to Tibe. My own sense of defiance, my refusal to bow to bullies, a capacity developed over many years–this is not my first time at the bully rodeo–shaped my commitment to Tibe. If all of these people thought he was really bad, there must be something good about him. There must be something important in his life, something redeemable in his being. I did not and do not know what that is, but I know it must be honored and protected. Mainly, though, I will be honest, it was defiance in the face of bullies that strengthened me, that made me hew to our adoption commitment to Tibe.

Defiance only lasts so long, however. Today, when I was saying goodbye to Tibe for our longest separation since the eighteen days he was banished from the county, I realized that my commitment to Tibe is no longer defiance. Defiance is unsustainable for these many months. As I was leaving, I told the beloved, Do not let anything happen to him. I was gripped by a fear and a passion and a love that was so fierce, so powerful, so visceral, so intense, it took my breath away. I love this dog so much, I would do anything to protect him. The fifty-two hours I will spend separated from him feels like a lifetime. I will worry for him, miss him, and whisper to him the promises of my return. I would go to any length for his life, for his well-being, for his happiness. The depth of this emotion, of this commitment, is no longer defiance. Defiance is a fleeting high. Defiance ruled us on the drive from Maryland to Michigan. What we have now is much different. It is angry and tender. It is fearful and joyous. My commitment to Tibe today is not one of defiance as it was months ago, it is a commitment of love. It is a recognition of the life force that is a part of all of us. It is the spark of creation that lights our lives calling us to righteousness, to justice, and to love. By any means necessary. At any cost.

That threat many months ago ended one part of my life. I mourn the many losses from the actions of the bullies, but saying goodbye to Tibe today, I realized some of what I have gained. I’ll be back, Tibe, I’ll be back.