POWER STRUGGLES AND POODLES

Yesterday was my birthday. My friends know how much I love flowers,
and roses in particular, so as I sit this evening typing my monthly
blog, I do so surrounded by flowers. I am also sitting cross-legged in
my recliner in order to avoid the piraña-like teeth of my new ten week
old poodle, Sophie. My previous beloved fifteen year old poodle, Coco,
had to be put down, and I vowed to live dogless from that point on. I
reckoned without a loving and determined daughter, aided and abetted
by other friends, who arranged with a breeder in Plettenberg Bay to
place an order for a poodle puppy. Christie knows me, so delayed
telling me of these plans until she was able to show me a photo of the
newly born litter of four puppies. She prefaced this trap by saying,
"Mom, I have organized a surprise for you, but you may not WANT the
surprise, so I thought I'd better check with you first. This is
it....." And with that she showed me THE PHOTO! That was me done for!

She then informed me that she had ordered not one, but TWO puppies,
but that the second one would arrive a few months later. The reason
for this was so that I could bond with the first one on her own, and
when her half sister arrived, puppy number one would have established
dominance, and they would be friends and companions for one another,
without a tussle for control. I must insert here the fact that Sophie
is currently in a power struggle with ME for control, so I don't think
Pollyanna stands a chance when she arrives in a month's time! Sophie
and I have both been sent to puppy classes to be trained together. I
have the advantage of being bigger and having two hands. Sophie has
the advantage of four legs, boundless energy, a fearsome set of teeth,
and a stubborn streak that is capable of wearing out a more determined
adversary than me. And so battle has been joined.

Christie was adamant that I be trained. She had lived with Coco for
fifteen years. It did my heart good to see my child worn down by a
dog. Coco had us all trained to do her bidding. On one memorable night
Christie, Phyllis (an adopted daughter soon to graduate from medical
school), and I, were watching a riveting tv show. Coco got it into her
head that there was something interesting in my recliner. Eventually
Christie and I were holding the chair upside down, while Phyllis the
brave searched the inner recesses of the chair lining with a torch! By
this time we were all convinced that at least a mouse, and at worst a
snake, was hiding in the lining. Christie and I were poised for a
quick getaway should a snake emerge, Phyllis was extricating fluff,
coins, and other interesting and diverse bits and pieces from the
chair's innards, and Coco continued to sniff and whine. Eventually
Phyllis removed the tiniest scrap of discarded dog biscuit from the
lining, and Coco triumphantly pounced on it and swallowed it whole. I
shall not repeat Christie's remark when she realised that this entire
manoeuvre had been orchestrated by our food obsessed poodle. I will
just mention that I heard her tell a friend, one day when Coco was
demanding that we look under the bed, that the dog had broken her will
years ago, and therefore we needed to scrabble around under the bed to
find out what Coco was after because she WOULD NOT give up until we
had given in.

So now we have a new character, but the same breed. Persistence is a
mark of poodles, and it is mind-boggling to see adult humans being
worn down by a 2kg bundle of attitude. The fact that she is so cute
that grown men talk baby talk to her, and cuddle her squirming little
fluffy body, doesn't help. I wait with bated breath for her to
transform herself from a sweet and adorable puppy into a whirling
tornado of needle sharp teeth. It is only a matter of minutes before
yelps of pain replace cooing tones, and I know we are back on the
battle ground. She is a sociable animal, so her worst punishment is
being confined to the bathroom on her own for a few minutes. Believe
me when I tell you that this is an exhausting exercise for me, but I
have determined that this is a battle I need to win. My house is
scattered with enough chew toys to satisfy ten dogs, but fingers and
toes are infinitely more palatable, so battle has been joined, and I
shall emerge victorious!!

But all this got me thinking about Christians. As determined as Sophie
is to get her own way, we are as determined to do our own thing. And
so we persevere, despite being corrected again and again. Do you know
how grateful I am to God that He will not ever give up on me, and have
to confess to the angels that my stubbornness has broken His will? How
secure that makes me feel. Instead of ending up as an undisciplined
pain of a person, I can rest in the knowledge that God is bigger and
more determined than I am that I WILL conform to what He requires of
me. He will put me in the bathroom, or whatever the equivalent  is for
me, again and again and again and again, until finally I bend to His
will and His way. The bible says don't be like a stubborn mule or
horse that has to be confined with a bit and a bridle. I can say don't
be a persistent poodle of a person if that means that you try to wear
out God. Be MEEK. In other words be trainable, and allow the word of
God to nudge you in the way you should go, so that you don't have to
be dragged along with a collar and leash.

Till next month, God bless you, and pray that I win the battle of
wills with Sophie VERY soon.