Errors in Lessons

Most humans live their entire lives blissfully unaware of the many ways and tactics the universe works in their favor to teach them the lessons necessary to elevate their souls. These tactics are so inconspicuous that most humans simply assume these lessons are inconveniences or challenges, coworkers or passing strangers. However, the most effective method, in my humble opinion, is being assigned a dog.

My name is Wyatt. I’m a dog, a Brittany to be exact, assigned to my humans according to the universe’s perfect plan and impeccable timing. Freshly married and already aware of themselves and the lessons they must learn, but in need of a touch of divine help. That’s where I come in. It’s my job to teach both Mom and Dad patience, anger management, understanding, and unconditional love however I see fit. Kind of a ‘be your own boss’ situation. The problem with that, however, is I’m a young boy; a pup of only two human years old and do not always think my lesson plans through. Unfortunately, this lack of experience can result in taking the lessons too far and cause unintended distress to my students. That is exactly what happened just after Christmas last year.

Our bedtime routine was simple. Dad would step out the back door into the small yard with me and wait until I was emptied enough for the night. Then, we would both sneak into the kitchen while Mom was upstairs and each treated ourselves to a bedtime snack. But this particular night, I had a plan. I would sneak out of the side yard through the small hole I had noted in the back left corner of the fence. This would help both Mom and Dad exercise their capacity for anger and patience just in time for me to arrive back at the entrance of the side yard. In their relief, they would be content and at peace knowing their patience and resilience were stronger, that it is safe to be slow to anger and stress. This was my lesson plan and I stand by it. The only problem is, I got lost.

As soon as Dad opened the door I stuck to my thought-out lesson plan and darted toward the escape in the back left corner. I heard him call out my name and command me to stop. I had to run through the heavy guilt that tried to hold me back. I knew what I was doing was for his own good and he would see that in time but it wrenched my heart to know I was disappointing him. I broke through the guilt and the fence, into the outside world. I took the familiar right toward my friend Cambie’s house. That turn is where my plan took a turn for the worst.

Once I was through the cloud of smell that I knew as Cambie and Draper’s house, the smells and surroundings were unfamiliar to me. Fear set in and I panicked. Please don’t judge me. Remember, I am still a young pup. I truly believed this to be a sound lesson plan. I guess I simply had not thought past the hole in the fence.

It was so dark and cold. I could tell from the weight and pressure of the air that it was about to rain and I lacked the courage to find my way home. The fear that set in had me frozen under a car several houses down from Cambie and Draper, so far away from Mom and Dad. The worry and shame I felt over this failed lesson was made worse once I remembered, they were supposed to be sleeping now. This was bedtime, and now they would have to be out in the cold rain searching for me.

I could hear them calling my name, but I was too ashamed to go to them. I had failed them during my first important test. What would the universe think of me? Would Mom and Dad want me to stay? Would they think I was a “Bad boy?” I just couldn't face them. I hear other familiar voices join theirs but I was too ashamed to show my face so stayed hidden, waiting for them to give up on me and return to the warmth of their home and forget all about me.

I spent far too long wallowing on this merry-go-round of self-doubt until I realized I couldn’t hear my name any longer. No more “Come ‘er boy” or “Wyatt let’s get a treat.”

Just the sound of the drizzle on the hood of the car. The chill started to reach my bones and I realized, maybe I was learning lessons too. Maybe this lesson I had meant to teach Mom and Dad was also teaching me too. Teaching me that no matter what I can always go home. I moved just enough outside the shelter of the car to have a big stretch and started toward the smell of home.

I ran as fast as I could in the direction my nose gave me until I could see the lights of home. As I approached the front door, I realized, If Mom and Dad had given up on me, how would I get inside? I started to panic again. I should never have waited so long. I should never have waited to run back to my family when they called me. This was my home. I rarely entered the house through the front door, but with the cover of the porch, that seemed to be the best option for shelter from the cold night. The closer I got to the door the more I could hear the emotion in Mom and Dad’s voices. They were still awake! They were still worried about me! I circled the porch wondering what to do when I jumped up with excitement, trying to open the door. When I did I realized the door hadn’t been closed all the way and swung open, slamming against the wall.

Mom and Dad both stood for a brief moment in silent shock before rushing me in an emotional cry that told me I had made the right decision. My tail was uncontrollable while they cried and rubbed my back and belly. I realized they had left the door open for me. They wanted me to come back to them. Even though I thought I had failed them, they still loved me and wanted me to come home. I guess we dogs are not here to only teach lessons to our assigned humans, but they are also capable of teaching us lessons in love as well.

See how it all went down. https://www.tiktok.com/@wyatt_the_brittany/video/6963327455989943557?_t=8W8Gta77rOF&_r=1