Samuel loves dogs with the ferocity of a Mama Bear. He guards both Beth and Walt when the door opens. He does not want them to get out and risk getting hit by a passing car or get lost and taken in by another family and never returned.
Yesterday Walt managed to elude me and got out right before I took Samuel to school. Samuel turned to me with tears in his eyes and his chin, wobbling, threatening to burst. “Walt got out…. “ before the fierce determination took over his body. Wearing only socks without shoes, he ran up the street.
I ran to my car and drove so that I could be an automotive blockade and/or lure Walt into the car.
It worked before, with our precious look-a-like to Walt, Hank.
The entire scene lasted only three minutes or so. I didn’t know it had any lasting impact until this morning when Samuel said, “I am not going to have a dog grow up. I am afraid I will lose him.”
My heart broke a little. I know most ten-year-olds have passing fancies including declarations of not doing or doing something, but Samuel means what he says. He doesn’t toss words out aimlessly, he chooses carefully. Mindfully.
With that he gave up his business idea, a Social Skills Training center for dogs who can’t seem to get along with others based on the Social Skills program he goes to for children with High Functioning Autism.
He understands not fitting in.
He understands being the “odd dog out.”
He understands the dogs at the ASPCA, stuck in a cage, pacing, barking to get attention, depressed when the barking backfires.
He probably knows far more about this then the rest of us could even imagine.
So instead of arguing with him or declaring him silly for making such a statement, I simply nodded, letting him know I would support him no matter what pet choices he made in the future.
It is the best I can do for him.
That is what matters.
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