If life is a tapestry, we can only see the back side of it. I experienced the back side the other day when I took my young Australian shepherd to be groomed for the first time. I’d put it off again and again, reasoning with myself that it was an unnecessary expense and that I could do it myself,” until I finally quit lying. The truth is that I’m 71, and I can no longer kneel by the bathtub and struggle to bathe a strong, unruly canine. In the past two years, Jennie has proved that she is allergic to the brush and terrified of the toenail clippers. I can’t fathom the reason behind her excessive fears unless maybe, she’s on the spectrum. We certainly haven’t chased her around the house with a FURminator. At-any-rate, when I looked her over on the pretense of patting her belly, I discovered she’d acquired more hair mats and I knew something had to be done. ” Miss Jennie,” I said, “you’ve got an appointment at the doggy beauty parlor.”
My friend, Laurie, has used a particular groomer’s services for a long time. She extolled her patience, her skill, her pleasant personality. When we brought a cowed Jennie into the shop, the groomer was putting the finishing beautifications on a regal golden retriever. He gazed at us calmly while she buzzed a few stray hairs, then lay down gracefully while she talked to us. “Wow!” I thought, “this girl is magic!”
The dog whisperer greeted Jennie slowly and spoke in a low, calm voice. Jennie didn’t look comforted. I said, “She might be a handful.” She reassured me: I’ll take it slow.” Then this kind-hearted person led my unnecessarily terrified hound to a crate in the back. I waved goodbye, saying “Call me if you need me.”
About an hour later, I received a text from her:
“I think we’re going to need sedatives for Jennie. She’s gator rolling on the table and I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself. Can you come and get her?”
So, off I went, feeling as if I was headed to the principal’s office because my kid had been in a fight. When I got there I saw this:
The skillful groomer had managed to buzz her belly and back and half of her right side before she gave up. “She NEEDS drugs,” she said. My vet agreed when I showed him the photo, and he gave me the same medicine he prescribes for dogs who have travel anxiety. “Give her 25 mg in a tiny bit of cheese, then wait two hours; if you don’t see her third eyelid coming up, give her 25mg more.” I carefully followed his directions and waited. We were 50mg into the process and there was still no evidence of the nictitating membrane. Instead of the glazed eyes I was hoping to see, Jennie’s sported a relaxed sparkle. The girl can handle her drugs. . .
Off we went for the second time in two days, hoping Jennie would end up, if not pretty, then at least symmetrically ugly. She came home completely shaved, except for her head, and she looked like a well-fed miniature lion. She still had small fur mats behind her ears because she continually bit at the clippers. I give her points for this: at least she didn’t go for the hand that held them. Once home, she reassumed her jolly, carefree attitude, and ignoring the laughter of the other three dogs, fell asleep on the porch.
Jennie’s experience wasn’t a great shock: I gave up expecting a picturesque life when a child of mine dropped his diaper and pooped on the front porch as my guests were arriving for a baby shower. That episode activated an alarm, warning me that I was definitely not in control of things here. Life was going to be messy.
It’s good, I think, to realize, right from the start, that we are inadequate to order life as we choose. Paths will not be straight; doorbells will ring when the baby is sleeping; underpants will be left at home when we go to the pool. We laugh or sigh and call it “Murphy’s Law”- whatever can go wrong, will. But Murphy, whoever he is, has nothing to do with it, because he’s not in charge either–God is.
We can view our lives as untidy needlework, cluttered with random loose threads, or we can trust that there is a Weaver who knows the pattern. Life looks like a mess now because we’re looking at it wrong side up. But in just a little bit, we’ll see the tapestry’s right side, and when we finally see it, I’ll bet it will be breath-taking.
