The Call of the Wild

Madison visits with Kay, Stimpy and Little Bit at the Tybee Island Dog Park, December 2007.

Tybee Island, Ga. --- Stimpy had a pretty restful night but he chased rabbits most of the evening. I suspect that he is hearing the “Call of the Wild” --- his original pack is recognizing his closeness.

His output today was minimal despite the fact he ate really well yesterday especially his treats. He did tree a squirrel on today’s walk but it was half-hearted and he is only acknowledging the cats with an icy stare and contempt.

He is still pretty frisky on the walks and especially when he is ready to return home. As always he has his own mind and decides his own path. Today, we cut out of the rest of the pack and returned about 20-minutes early. He is resting comfortably on his rug and raising an eyebrow now and then.

What Stimpy has taught me

When the student is ready the teacher will come

Have you ever wondered if God, whatever he or she is, has a sense of irony and humor and just might be dyslexic?

After all, when you spell Dog backwards it is a clear indication to me that these animals were made to reflect all those things that God and the Creator wanted to teach us.

Stimpy has taught me a great deal these past 14 years especially about how to talk out my problems, my hopes, my fears, my aspirations, my heartaches and my losses.

I have faced demons and memories long buried on many of my daily walks with him. I have talked through crap and feelings that I would never share with anyone else. I have faced fears long ago stuffed away for the “fear” they might show weakness. I have used him as my sounding board for difficult personal and professional times and situations. I have shared my loneliness and happiness with him.

And not one time did this beautiful creation of God ever judge me, criticize me, or “want to talk it out.” He just listened and showed compassion and unconditional love.

Unconditional love is the one trait that Man is incapable of and yet our dogs seem to be born with the gene. They are never at a loss to show it when we come home to them.

Stimpy has listened when no one else had the time.

I have shared with him the pain of losing a child, best friends and a Mother. I have told him of childhood horror and abuse and of adult angst. And I have shared my heart’s greatest wishes of love never fulfilled and dreams shattered.

Never once did he complain, explain, or criticize or even offer his opinion. He simply gave me those soulful and all knowing looks that conveyed love and compassion that only God’s dogs can do.

As a behavioral psychologist, I studied animal and human behavior and I also sought out and took numerous clinical and social psychology classes. I have always been fascinated with the behavioral aspects of people and animals.

Much like Stimpy, I like to sit and watch people, listen to them, analyze and digest all the sights and sounds of a situation.

To be good as a behaviorist experts argue you have to crawl inside the mind and live there to understand the emotions, motivations, and behaviors of a person.

That’s where I am living a lot these days --- inside myself.

Friends want to console me but there is no consoling that can be done.

I have to simply work through all the feelings about Stimpy and come out the other side.

At times like these it often feels like I am fighting my way through a thick veil of doubt and sadness. A state of being that most men I know would never own up to or admit. We are after all brought up to be the “protector, provider and the strong one” in the family that consoles everyone else. And yes, I do my best to do that for everyone else when they need it. However, the doctor can’t do it for myself.

Simply these days my emotions are raw and ragged, I hurt and ache deep from within --- my thinking is not clear, and my heart --- my heart simply hurts with the pain of a what I know will be at some point a pending loss of truly my best friend.

In the years past, I dealt with anger, grief and frustration through massive quantities of alcohol – Scotch was my preference and I would drink it like most people would drink Coke.

Stimpy weaned me from that abuse.

In the past I would shut down and not even talk to myself about my own problems.

Stimpy taught me that talking to at least him was a therapeutic experience.

I put up a lot of walls in the 70s, walls that I would let few people ever see over, and even fewer would I allow to crawl over and come inside to visit.

Stimpy showed me that he could walk through those walls as if they were not even there.

And today, as he rests on the couch with his enigmatic smile and loving eyes, I suspect he is still trying to teach me.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandassociates.org