BECAUSE I CAN'T BE MAD AT THE DOG

A while back my dog, an otherwise well-trained and good dog, had been housebound too long due to protracted rain (she simply will not go out in the rain) and errands (my beloved and I both had things to do and we will go out in the rain) and as a result when she got home before I did…

Well, let’s say my beloved knew with her frist breath after she opened the door that the dog, a Great Dane, had allowed biological need to overwhelm both her training and her sense of decorum and there in the dining room (on the oriental rug, of course) was ample evidence that the dog was well fed.

As they say, shit happens, and if you lock a dog in a house this is not an unforeseen result. Regrettable, but until I can figure a way to teach them to use the toilet for something other than a fountain this shit, literally, is going to happen. I’ve had Great Danes for over 20 years and as a rule I pick up pretty much everything that they eat, so cleaning up the mess isn’t a big deal for me, but I wasn’t the first home.

Now there were a couple of other things going on here. The rug was a new acquisition. My beloved, who enjoys a neat and clean house, had just finished redecorating the dining room, and while she’s not a squeamish type, cleaning up dog shit is not high on her list of fun things. These and other factors all combined to exacerbate the dire effects of this event.

I knew what was waiting for me when I got home because she had called to tell me what MY DOG had done and by the time I arrived the doors were open, the attic fan was on, two or three spent bottles of Lysol spray lay on the floor while their contents hung in the air, the poop was gone and she was angry.

No, she was livid.

And better-man me embraced her anger and in the course of our discussion I asked why she was mad with me and she said, “Because I can’t be angry with the dog.” Which was true. Irrelevant, it seemed, but true. I knew and she knew that the dog would have gone outside if she could, that we had locked the doors, and hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

But still, it didn’t explain why she chose to be angry with me, inasmuch as I had just about as much control of the situation as the dog did. I would have opened the door had I been there, but I wasn’t there. Her anger felt like an unjustified personal attack, and I although I struggled with that, I set it aside. I didn’t take it personally because to do so would invite me to retaliate, to allow my righteous indignation to fuel an attack on her for her unjustified attack on me.

So I listened, and I mirrored, and eventually she felt heard and calmed down and somehow the sun rose the next morning and life went on, but her response has stuck with me…. she was angry with me because she couldn’t be angry with the dog. She’s not crazy so that has to make sense.

And finally, last night, it dawns on me: duh! The dog hasn’t studied Imago, the dog hasn’t read HTSYMbBABM, the dog’s only response to her anger is to run away. The dog cannot be a vessel for her anguish, the dog cannot embrace her anger…

But I can.

So it makes sense that she shares her anger with me (the only way she knows how), because I have shown her that I won’t run away from it, that I will embrace it, that I will be there for her.

Now some of you are going, “Hunt, come on down off the cross, it wasn’t right for her to be angry with you because of something the dog did. Grow a set and tell her to shut up.”

Yeah, you’re right about the first part, but telling her she’s wrong is not going to help things. It is enough that I know it, and as for the second part, grow a set, I got a new and improved set so I don’t have to prove I have them (to you or her) by telling her to shut up. There are better ways.

So here’s the insight: when your beloved is angry with the world, maybe it’s something that happened in her family, maybe it’s something that happened at school or work or maybe, god forbid, it has something to do with the dog, understand that you, her spouse, represent her safety zone. She may not do it gracefully, and it may not be a lot of fun, but she is turning to you in anger because you are the only person she can turn to, and for now, the only tool for expressing herself is anger.

She cannot blow up at her boss, her teacher, her mother, her neighbor or her dog because it will serve no purpose. They will run away, the will fight back, things will go from bad to worst. She is angry, and she can’t get mad at the dog, so guess what? You’re elected. Don’t get me wrong: getting angry at you is not good relationship maintenance and depending on your tolerance it will have to change at some time, but it is a very natural and common behavior for all of us.

You’ve done it. You’ve popped your cork at someone because damnit enough is enough and that person just picked the wrong person to fuck with…. And if you have done it then you cannot blame your beloved when she goes there.

And you’re elected because 1) you volunteered, (maybe the vows should be to love, honor, respect and embrace her anger) and 2) you (if you’ve read the book and done the work) got the skills: you can embrace your beloved’s anger. You can listen, you can understand, you can be supportive, and in her world the odds are you are the only person she can turn to (seemingly on) when the chaos of an unfair world make her fear and it shows up as anger.

You can take it in knowing that it’s genus, while superficially you, is elsewhere, and by not reacting to her anger, by not blaming her for being angry at you for something you didn’t do, by not allowing yourself to believe the lie that she is angry with you, you can help her survive the moment, transcend the anger, and perhaps grow.

My beloved became angry and the only recourse she had, the only tool in her box, was to blame me. Why? Because the dog couldn’t help her, and I can.