My Dog, My Rock and Even My Clock!

I’m not big on schedules and structures, though I would like to be.  I admire those who create their own schedules and stick to them as well as those who accept institutional structures that tell them where to be, what to do, when to show up and how long to stay.  I, on the other hand, am one of those people who is often held hostage by my artistic temperament.  In fact, I can quickly become resentful of any person or institution that tells me what to do or when to do it. 
    Now most households are reflective of those who inhabit them so how my dog became so schedule obsessed is beyond me!  Creature of habit?  No way!   If our dog were human, he’d be OCD.  Not only does he not eat after 7:00 p.m. but will go directly to his kennel the minute he hears my blow dryer go off in the morning.  It doesn’t matter if I’m staying home or going out, once he hears that whistle of hot air blowing, he’s in the kennel for the rest of the day whether I close his door or not.  The same with movies.  Once those credits start rolling, off he goes, it’s time for bed.
   How he got this way, I’m not sure?  I suspect that he is in a time warp and trying to reconcile that my husband never actually chose him in the first place.  It’s true!   My kids and I put him on hold at the Humane Society on Christmas Eve Day, 2002 because we had nothing better to do.  To our surprise, lots of dogs were available that day.  Apparently we weren’t privy to what the rest of the world knows about staying away from the pound on holidays that encourage loneliness and gift-giving!   Bad combination for a family still mourning their last pet.
    Upon putting our dog on hold, I at least had enough sense to call my husband and ask him to stop by on his way home from Christmas shopping to give him a look see.  Thinking he was home free after two years of being pet free, my husband begrudgingly went to see this dog to find out what all the fuss was about.  To my surprise, he called me from his cell phone excited and thrilled to be playing with such an agile and receptive companion. “Yes!” he shouted.  “This is a great dog!”
    Ten minutes later, an apologetic volunteer called to tell me that the dog my husband was shown was not actually the dog I had put on hold but a different dog, a dog that was no longer available for adoption.  And so, I broke the news to my husband and that was that.  The dog my kids and I fell in love with that morning was the dog that was coming home with us and the dog my husband fell in love with is the dog that was going home with someone else.
    I’m not sure, but I think our dog instinctually knows that he wasn’t necessarily our family’s first choice and tries to make up for it by staying overly obedient to a self-imposed restrictive schedule.  What he may not know, however, is that he provides the stability that every family needs.  You can set the clock by him.  Like the changing of the seasons or trusting the mail carrier will deliver six days a week, rain or shine, our dog is nothing if not dependable.  Plus, my kids always know exactly where to find him at any given time and that alone is trust incarnate.  I only wish our dog truly understood what a gift he has been to a family who is and may always be structure-impaired.
    How about you?  What in your life can you trust or count on?  What does that mean to you?