They Listen To Me Not

“So, is she a smart dog?” My dad asked me when our phone call conversation shifted to our young German shepherd, Kyra.

“Sure she is, like in that joke: My dog is so smart. When I ask her: are you coming or not, she will come or not.”

My dad laughed. “So, you mean she doesn’t listen then?”

“Well,” I paused to ponder about the answer. Her listening was complicated and not directly proportional to her smarts. My dog was smart all right. She knew how to pick out the flea medicine from her food bowl. She knew how to close the door, and track her ball in the park. Did she listen though? “She definitely listens to Matt and Victor (my husband and my teenager, her primary trainers), she follows Konrad religiously (my younger son and our dog’s favorite playmate), and with me? She negotiates.” Oh, you want dinner? It's not time yet. Okay, how about a little treat.

“Just like the boys,” my husband couldn’t resist a biting joke, when later on I shared with him my theory on our dog’s selective listening. “Poor cutie, neither our dog, nor our children listen to you, huh?”

His pity was misdirected, but he was not wrong. Neither my pet, nor my kids obeyed me consistently. And on a bad day, this harsh yet true criticism was quite hurtful and made me feel like a failure. When my kids spent hours in front of their screens, I wished I could just tell them to turn off their computers and they magically would. On a bad day, I wished, I could tell my dog to drop the ball by my feet and she instantly would. On a bad day, I badly wanted them to listen to me. Even better, I wanted them to read my mind. But on a good day, I knew that making them listen was not really my primary goal. On a good day, I had a different strategy.

When we added a German shepherd puppy to our pack, I knew I wanted to focus on raising a friendly, happy, and loyal dog. Looking at how well she played with other canines, how sweet she was with us, and how gentle she was with the kittens- our latest addition and a topic for another post, I was positive I had reached my goal. Obedience was important when it served safety, but I viewed myself more as a companion, rather than a trainer. When a professional trainer pointed out that my dog acted like she was self-employed, I wasn’t sure why her being opinionated and independent was such a bad thing. I likely encouraged it.

I definitely encouraged it with my kids. I didn’t want to give out orders and I didn’t want my kids to blindly follow my instructions. If they didn’t like what I asked them to do, I wanted them to know how to argue their way out. On a bad day, I regretted it. But then again, come a good day and I remembered why I didn’t mind it. “We shouldn’t worry that our kids don’t listen to us. We should worry they watch us,” someone smart said and it resonated with me. I'd rather strive (aspire?) to be a role model for my kids than a boss mom. I’d rather try to be a person they feel comfortable haggling with, than a person with whom they are scared to debate.

So, yes, maybe I have the same dubious method for raising my kids and my dog, and maybe they collectively listen to me not. But I know that my dog will never hurt anyone and she will always follow me to the car when she sees me leaving the dog park. And I hope that my kids, trained in our tireless (and tiring) parleys, will learn to voice their opinions, compromise, and stand up for themselves or others when necessary.