On Vulnerability and Dependence
The dependence of animals on us is extraordinary if you stop to think about it. Until recently, I have always thought of domesticated animals as interdependent with humans, and more particularly with me and the beloved. Yes, we provide them with food and shelter and vet care, but they provide us with unconditional love, daily affection, warmth and care equal to, if not greater than, what we provide them. I still believe in the interdependence of me and the animals, Tibe, Emma, and Vita, our pack at the moment. Yet, I am struck in the past two months of the dependence of animals on humans.
Part of this reflection comes from the process of training with Tibe. Prior to Tibe, our training goals wee always modest: walk on the leash, try to refrain from jumping (try being an operative part of the verb phrase), and, well, that was about it. Once the puppy stages ended for Emma and Shelby (Mary Claire and Homer were different stories completely; part of their stories are here), they generally settled into a routine that did not involve much obedience but they appeared trained and happy and well-adjusted. Tibe needs more training. More training involves him seeing me, his human handler, some might even say owner, as the alpha dog. He must be obedient to me; he must depend on me for his safety and well-being while we walk, while he poops, while he pees, while he navigates the world. I find this dependence and my need to assert my authority and enforce his dependence sobering, even frightening. I am not confident in my own ability to ensue MY safety and MY well-being let alone take responsibility for a dog’s. Yet I have no other choice. I assert my dominance and his dependence. Often, walking, after I have commanded him with me, I will say, I have everything under control. Nothing bad will happen to you. I am here to take care of you. Tibe does not understand these words. They are meant to remind me of my responsibility. His dependence creates even more gravity to this responsibility.
Tibe and I have been training intensively the whole time he has been living with us–since late March of 2015. Yet, I am thinking more about dependence and vulnerability as I spend time with my ninety-three year old grandmother. The last thing that she wants is to depend on anyone. Her greatest pride is living in her own house, driving her own car, paying her own way, and never being dependent. While Tibe’s dependency on me builds our relationship and his obedience, for my grandmother dependency is an anathema. Yet, as she ages, as she faces medical issues, she needs assistance. She needs to be dependent and accept help to improve her own health.
He is where vulnerability enters. When I did training classes with Emma, the hardest command was down. I remember clearly the first day of instruction and practice. The trainer hollered at me and said you must put her in a down position. You are in control. She is not. It was a crisis for me because I could not help wondering, why should I impose my will on Emma? Does she not have a will of her own? Can she not decide for herself when to lie down and when to stand up? Who am I to enforce my will on her? These are not questions to ask a dog trainer. (If you have been in training, you know; if not, go.) It was a philosophical crisis that led me to tears. This did not endear me to the trainer.
When my grandmother told me that she did not need any maintenance medication any longer because she was over ninety, I wanted to believe her. She is an autonomous human being. She has a will of her own. She can make her own decisions. Except now she cannot. She lost the capacity to make the good decisions for herself. So she enters a new kind of dependency and a new kind of vulnerability. My grandmother and Tibe each experience these conditions differently, but they are connected at this moment in my life. Seeing the dependence of both and the vulnerability of each forces me to contemplate the dependence and vulnerability in my future. I cannot dwell there now, however, my grandmother needs daily shots and weekly meal plans. Tibe needs a stronger stay and an immutable down.
While Emma made me question my authority over a dog, I have no question with Tibe. When I say down, he needs to go down. Sit. Stay. We are still working on come. (Insert lesbian joke here.) Yet, I see the vulnerability of Tibe every time I put him into the down position. He looks at me. He wants to know is he ok? If he is vulnerable to the world, will I protect him? He wants to know that his dependence, that his vulnerability will pay off with me. That I will protect him. That I will care for him.
I want to tell him, Tibe, that is what I am doing. I am not sure he understands. Neither does my grandmother. That is, ultimately, what makes them most dependent–and most vulnerable. As they must trust, I must be worthy of their trust. I must bring the protection and care their dependence demands and meet their vulnerability with care and strength and love
Filed under: personal writing, spirituality, Tiberius, Uncategorized
