Mirror, Mirror on Four Legs

“From now on, whenever you look in the mirror, you will no longer look at yourself,” an elderly neighbor told me when my first son was born. She was a wise woman. When I became a mom, all I was looking at and all I saw in the mirror was the baby I was holding in my arms.

When we got a dog, the mirror theme resurfaced again. “She will mirror your energy level,” a friend of mine assured me when I was worried if I could keep up with my energetic puppy. She was a wise woman too. I didn’t have to wait long to see how my dog mirrored not only my energy level, but also my mood and a state of mind.

I would be so tired that I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up from a chair and my shepherd would lie down on the floor next to me, without a squeak. I’d be scrambling to leave the house in time for the school pick up and she would be waiting by the garage door, ready to go. When the other day, my son pushed me on the swing a tiny bit too high for my comfort level, my dog quickly ran to the swing and tried to stop it. She was able to read my fear even though I was trying to hide it and act bravely in front of my son.

Every day I get a proof that my dog knows what’s going on in my head and in my body. In a strange way, it is a four- legged mirror of my soul. Just like with a regular mirror, which helps me to correct my messy hair and smudgy eyeliner, my dog-mirror gives me a peek into my chaotic mind and an opportunity to straighten it up.

The other day, due to an early appointment, I couldn’t take my dog for a morning walk. As soon as I got back home, I grabbed the leash and was ready to take Kyra to the park. She was wagging her tail as I opened the door. But then I noticed it was almost her lunchtime. I closed the door, detached the leash and grabbed her bowl. Again, the dog happily followed me towards the stash of kibble in the garage. As I was opening the food bin, though, I was no longer sure if feeding my dog earlier was better. Maybe we should go to the park first after all? I was about to turn around, but then I saw my dog gaping at me. She had confusion written all over her mug. What’s going on? Walk? Food? Am I going to get either?

I felt bad for my dog. My indecisiveness was clearly affecting her. It probably affected my kids when they were little as well. Sure, you can watch TV now. Here is the remote. Oh, wait, maybe you should finish your homework first and then watch TV. Chores first, give me the remote back. Actually, maybe there is not enough time for homework before dinner. Okay, here is the remote. My constant back and forth must have been so confusing and tiring for my boys.

I filled Kyra’s bowl with food and let my dog eat in peace. As I was making my own lunch, an old proverb came to mind. “Failure to decide is to decide to fail.”

I didn’t want to decide to fail anymore. Even though my kids showed no sign of damage so far, my puppy deserved a more decisive leader.

Mirror, mirror on four legs, what personality flaw will I notice next?