“Leave it.”

These two words have opened up a world of possibility with training my new dog. 

When she bothers the cat, “Leave it.”  When we don’t want her to chew on our shoes, “Leave it.”  When we want to keep her from eating from the cat’s food dish or begging at the table – “Leave it.”

If only things were so simple with people.  If only we could say “Leave it” to pushy telemarketers, obnoxious strangers, or even bosses requiring more work for the same pay.   But then, people are not so willing to drop whatever they’re pursuing just to please another person.  People are self-driven.  People are stubborn.

But this got me to thinking about relationships in general.  How many times do we stubbornly refuse to change just because we want what we want, whether it’s something we need or not?  How many times do we pursue something, perhaps trampling over others in the process, only to realize that now that we have the thing we were after, it’s nothing more than a chewed-up shoe that leaves us wanting something new to gnaw on?

There may be something in the wisdom of the dog, who is willing to drop that delightfully smelly shoe just for the sake of pleasing a person she cares about.  The dog may be the perfect example of the loyal friend, the person who cares at least as much about her friend’s happiness as her own.

But then I realized that my dog was chewing on my shoes when I wasn’t looking, so I had to revise my theory a bit.

No person (and no dog) can give in 100% of the time.  However, there is something moving about those people who are willing to give of themselves for others.  After all, isn’t that what defines a hero?  Heroes, both comic-book super style and the regular everyday kind, are those people who give of themselves for the sake of others – whether that’s devoting their spare time  to swinging among the rooftops delivering victims of crime, or dedicating their money and resources to helping families in need.

In the same way, my dog is still going to chew on things.  She needs to – she’s a teething puppy.  But when it comes down to it, she’d rather please me than chew on a shoe.  And since I’ve been telling her “Leave it,” more often, she’s begun to leave the shoes alone, and chew on other things.

Heroes aren’t the dogs who never chew on shoes; they’re the dogs who say, “Okay, I’ll still eat shoes, but only when you’re not looking; and if it really bothers you, I can chew on the cat instead.” 

Okay, I realize something’s still not quite connecting with that analogy.  Anyway, my point is this: dogs are a good example of a willingness to give in, even just on the little things, to show that they care about others.   And while I don’t advocate a complete puppy mentality (not only because chewing on shoes creates bad breath but also because I recognize a person needs freedom to be his own person), I admire the willingness that mirrors that puppy-like openness and concern for the happiness of others.  It’s a willingness I’ve seen far too seldom, and I think it’s part of what gives dogs their “man’s best friend” charm.

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