Sometimes the answers to challenging questions just sneak up and lick you in the face.

I’ve found myself at a kind of professional crossroads as of late, with opportunities that require decisions about where I see myself headed. Should I stay on familiar paths, the tried-and-true of what I’ve successfully done before? Or should I take risks, wade into unfamiliar terrain that could open up to new and fulfilling roads (or lead to a dead end)?

Typical stuff, sure. But as I looked for answers, I recently found a kind of inspiration from the most unlikely of sources:

My dog.

Chauncey is a very large Goldendoodle, notable for his long legs, expression-filled eyes, ridiculous nicknames (Be-Chauncé, Dr. Chaunstein, Chaun Puffy Combs) and the propensity to hump the occasional human or soft blanket. Chauncey turned 10 recently, what goes for a fairly ripe old age among larger breed dogs. He’s definitely staring at his later years, with perhaps a little less energy and a lot more gas. But overall he’s still a sweet, occasionally needy presence in our lives. He’s a good old dog.

Since we brought him into our home, Chauncey has been a “downstairs dog”. Our doctor recommended a strict no-bedroom visitation policy after a lick from a chocolate lab made my daughter’s face swell like a souffle. Soon after Chauncey’s arrival, we used an electric fence collar and placed a sensor near the top of our stairs. He learned quickly that an approach beyond the first step or two would result in a warning beep, then a brief shock.

A little cruel, perhaps, but it worked. All it took was one zap on his first attempt, and Chauncey never dared to climb those stairs again.

So for 10 years (long after the sensor was removed), Chauncey has waited patiently for us on the landing of our stairs, staring up for a few minutes to imagine what wonders existed in that forbidden space before nodding off. I imagine he accepted his place and his position in the life our home, comfortable and safe but decidedly downstairs.

Continue reading