Have you ever spent much time with a small dog? Did you notice the air of self-confidence they exude? To them, external measures are meaningless, as Ed Gungor says in his book One Small Barking Dog. And this, I can say was unequivocally true, at least for one of my two small dogs.
Bean-dip came first. She actually belonged to the neighbors when I bought my first house. They left her alone in the yard, all the time, regardless of the weather, with no suitable shelter. She would find ways to escape the fence and run to my doorstep, where she would sit and whine until I heard her and let her in. And let me tell you, once she was in, she OWNED the place! And after a few “visits” the neighbors decided she didn’t need to come home anymore. She was brash and ferocious and assertive; afraid of nothing. I remember vividly the day she chased a full-sized garbage truck through the neighborhood barking up a storm as she ran…presumably saving the neighborhood from the foul-smelling, giant contraption. She was a Chihuahua-terrier mix, weighing a solid nine pounds on a good day. I don’t have a picture of her with me today, but if you want a visual, think “Taco Bell dog” from the late 1990’s!
Contrast her to Houdini, who I mistook for Bean-dip one rainy evening on my way home from work, silhouetted in the lights from on-coming traffic as he scurried across the road in front of the cars. I thought she had escaped the yard, only to discover this dog was male, an inch or so taller, and thinner than Bean-dip. Same short buff fur, and although according to the vet, he was a Basenji-Terrier mix, they looked like siblings. He was the quiet, gentle small dog, also confident in himself, but more interested in a cozy spot to nap than he was in taking on the world.
One lesson they reminded me of, frequently and in a variety of situations, was that small wasn’t less important or valuable than big, it was just different. But we live in a world that seems to compel us to continuously compare things, and sometimes one thing in that equation will be deemed of lesser value. Often it’s the smaller thing, isn’t it?
Just look at our cars and houses, our drive to accumulate more things, consider the so-called “value meals” in restaurants with ever-increasing portion sizes (of food that’s not necessarily good for us to begin with!)…but tell me, do these things equate to happiness, contentment, satisfaction, joy, and increased self-confidence?
I can speak for only myself, and my answer is “no.” Sure, I enjoy having nice things; I work hard, I buy quality, and I take good care of my things. But I have no misconception about what they are and what they represent. I need to be the right kind of person with a good heart and a giving spirit regardless of how I dress or what stuff I have and no amount of “stuff” is going to make me happy.
When I was working on my Master’s degree, there was a young man in my program. He was from Europe, very nice looking guy and smart. I soon learned he was also missing something significant. He was constantly buying things and when I say things, I don’t mean $10, inconsequential things (although he bought that kind of stuff in excess, as well), but I mean high-end expensive items – electronics, watches, clothing – and the labels and logos were very important to him; he bought whatever was considered the best at the time. One day, he was supposed to stop by to help with a house project. He pulled into the driveway in a brand new Jeep, one of the sportier models, fresh off the lot! He already had two other (not inexpensive) cars, and a motorcycle, if I remember correctly. He was bored, he said. Stopped by the car lot just for fun, and voila! He was now the proud new owner of this Jeep…that he couldn’t afford (his debt was staggering, and his compensation no match for what his monthly payments must have been)…and the next week, he was on a quest for the next thing, that next acquisition he was sure was going to make him happy.
As Ed Gungor says, on page 31 of One Small Barking Dog, “It’s what’s inside that counts most. And there’s another problem (with the big-dog lie): when externals matter too much, it makes you weird.”
Well put, Ed!
What do you think about the power of the small dog? And how does the “big dog lie” play out in your life?
