Unfortunately, I got a call from Leader Dog yesterday to tell me that Tucker has been career changed. Even though he made it to stage 4 of 4, he was too easily distracted by other dogs to serve as an a good guide. While I am glad that this means he'll be headed back my way very soon, right now, the feelings are more that of sadness, disappointment, and stress.
I'm finding myself frustrated by those around me who cannot understand why I cried instead of jumping up and down. I'm beginning to realize that as much as my friends were instrumental in raising him, very few have come close to understanding what it's like to actually be the raiser. Even though I didn't want to give him up in May, I think every puppy raiser can understand that feeling of, "I put 11 months of my life into this - blood, sweat, and tears - and I want him to make it. I want to see him in a harness, changing someone's life for the better." It is hard to ask anyone but a puppy raiser to truly understand those conflicting emotions.
If Tucker had career changed that first month I gave him back, I'd have jumped for joy without question. It is the fact that he made it this far - far enough that I didn't miss him all the time anymore - far enough that we all believed he would make it - far enough that I marked my calendar with, "Tucker should get his person this month!" that makes it hard.
It is hard because now that I know he can be mine again, I want him back, and I want him back NOW. Unfortunately, my living situation in Winston means that he will more than likely have to spend the next year three hours away from me at my parents' house. Now, I am thankful that they have agreed to keep him and I know that he will be in good hands, but I am concerned about how that will change him.
I don't want the training that Tucker and I did to go to waste. He's too good to just be a pet, and therefore, I want him to become a therapy dog. The problem is that my sister's dog (who lives with my parents) is certifiably crazy roughly 60% of the time. Don't get me wrong - she's a great dog, but she's not a Leader Dog - she wasn't raised to be. I can't afford for her to undo all of Tucker's training and turn him into your average, somewhat unruly, house pet if he's going to be a therapy dog.
Now we come to the final piece of this puzzle: failure. I knew going in that the odds were against him - 60-40 to be exact - but by the time he went back, and especially once he passed the first two phases of training, I thought we had beaten the odds. For those of you who know me well, you know that failure is not something I embrace. I have lived my life, and especially my last four years at GWU, wanting to be a success - doing everything in my power to make sure I was successful - and I usually was. While career changing is not necessary synonymous with failure, right now it's hard to remember that. I knew that dog distraction was a problem for him, so why couldn't I fix it? Was it him? Was it me? Should I have sucked it up and made more time in my busy schedule last year to bombard him with unfamiliar dogs until it was no longer an issue? Would that have even worked?
These are the thoughts currently plaguing my mind and the reason that I am not yet to the point where the happiness of his return can overwhelm the disappointment at his removal from the program.
I would love to have some encouraging word to share with you. I wish there was an easy fix and a perfect perspective. Instead, I just want you to know that I (and probably "we") hear your frustration, your struggle, and your concern about this transition. They are all valid feelings, and I think your response is appropriate. You are not a failure. Your work was not a failure. You have been very clear about the fact that you viewed this project as your service to the Lord, and I think He will bless that.
ReplyDeleteLove and blessings to you, my sister. Tell Courtney to give you a hug for me!
-Rebekah
Thanks Rebekah. It's just so hard to wrap my mind around. I cannot understand why God is letting this happen like He is. What good does it do for Tucker not to pass? What good does it do for my heart to get broken all over again because I'm living in a place where I more than likely can't have him? Why did God give me a passion that is so incredibly hard to fulfill? It's just so frustrating to be the strange one that no one understands and to have a stress reliever/hobby/passion that you can't have just anywhere.
DeleteI know it seems like I am making a giant mountain out of a mole hill, but I think this was just the straw that broke the camel's back.