A Rose by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet is all fine and dandy, until it comes down to naming a new puppy. Is one name just as good as another? I would venture to say it is not.
My husband assured me that he did not care the name we chose and thus, for the thirteen hours one way to retrieve our retriever, I dreamed. Jotting down many a name, we lingered in conversation. It was actually quite fun and for a man who didn’t care what we named our new pup, he sure did use his veto power along the way.
“So you don’t care? Great! Then let’s go with Violet!”
“No, not Violet,” he mumbled.
“How about Katie Jayne?” His facial expression gave way that this, too, would not do.
As the miles went by, so did the names. Every road sign seemed to be calling her name so-to-speak. Byron, Genoa, Ivy, Rochelle, and Sycamore were places passed. Cars called out Kia, Jetta, or Chevy. Songs upon the radio offered up Pleasant, Franscesca, Libby, and on it went. The hours of conversation were taken up with the rhythm and rhyme behind each one.
In the end, it was Maddie Francine we welcomed with wiggles. Now, it’s been three weeks and I am convinced that somebody long ago, misspelled the word for which these little critters are known. I am convinced that puppy was just a more dignified version of poopy, and thus it “stuck” no pun intended. Locked in the gated kitchen
Locked in the gated kitchen for the past several weeks has given me new perspective. Responding to every whimper is what puppy patrol consists of. In fact, as I type, my knees are still cold from diving under the cattle gate just before she hit pay dirt. She’s willing to bond with the scent of manure and frantically sniffs her way towards the moving target which produced it.
I lunged towards her little furry feet like Mr. McGregor did towards those of Peter Rabbit just as he scampered under the garden gate. However, when I did it, the leash slipped off my hand and off she dashed. No doubt the neighbors heard the alarm in my voice as it all came down to the wire.
As far as puppy knew, it was all a pile of fun as nature called in the direction she desired to go. Wafting in the air were scents she’d never known and movements she’d never seen. The little ankle biter was rescued from trouble and didn’t even know it. I suppose that’s the reason why we work on obedience to begin with. It’s to protect.
Although a rose by any other name could smell as sweet, the scent I’m picking up is they are a lot sweeter along the way when they obey. Obedience makes life easier because it provides a safety zone from which to operate. No one is trying to suck all the fun out of puppy’s life by wanting her to make the right choices. On the contrary, it’s so she will be able to live a long and healthy life.
Sort of reminds me of Ephesians 6:2. “Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that your days may be long and that it may go well with you.”
Now, if I could only teach puppy to read these words written in Ephesians, it might make it easier. But then, I suppose, we’d have to work on comprehension. As it is, I must teach puppy with language barriers and with no understanding that she gets it lest her actions show it. When I fail, or she does, we keep trying because in the end, she is worth it. I’ll let you know how it’s go
I’ll let you know how it’s going every now-and-again. In the mean time, I’m just praying that I will be able to live a long and healthy life in spite of the process! Amen.
