I mentioned in a previous post that Beefy had been experiencing some incontinence, out of the blue. I’ve had him on a specific diet to try to narrow down what in his diet has been giving him bowel trouble and now this new urinary hiccup popped up. He’d only been wetting his bed when he slept in his crate at night (with the door open). And after the first time, he stopped coming to me for help with it. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to be soaking his own bed anymore than I want him to, but still he’s doing it.
Holding it in for 8–10 hours at night is a tall task for any being, let alone a 45 pound dog. During the days when I leave him, I make sure I’m only gone for a couple hours at a time and that I walk him before I g. One morning I came back from a 3 hour absence, which I thought was a manageable time, but he’d done it again. When he came out of the crate to greet me, I noticed it the bedding was wet. I was frustrated. I was also worried about his health, but also that he might be developing a new habit, thinking that it’s okay to pee in his own crate and that I’ll just clean it up everytime. I could feel myself getting angry, wanting to yell at him. Wanting to kick him out of the apartment (I have no yard). I was feeling helpless. So, I put him out of the room, scrubbed the floor of his crate with vinegar solution, and tried to figure out how to fix what had now become a recurring problem, all while continuing to grun and groan. I could feel myself getting physically tense — my body, my face, my head and throat. But because I had awareness of my body, I was able to look at what was coming over me with some objectivity, and not completely identify with my own anger. Look what this anger is doing to my body! Do I want these physical feelings? Is this going to lead to anything positive? For Beefy? For me? The minute I asked those questions I realized that I’d been doing my own version of ‘wetting the bed’ — the bed of my mind — dousing my otherwise calm state of being with all this anger and frustration.
Though I was having some feelings, I noticed them. And in looking at them, I was able to be ruled by them which gave me some space to also notice that I preferred not to soil my consciousness, my mood, or the postive momentum I’d been building up for myself that day. What was done, was done already. He wasn’t going to understand what I was angry about anymore than he already does. My mood shift and move to isolate him in the bathroom while I cleaned would likely be informative enough for him. So with this little mindful intervention, I could choose what action or response I wanted to express and that made all the difference.
Over the next few weeks, I reminded myself to remain patient with him when he did it again. That made him less anxious when I’d return home and greet him for the first time. I began taking him off of supplement a nutritionist gave me that I thought might be contributing, and I limited his water intake before bed. After about 6 weeks, he stopped doing it.
Moments like these help me realize two things: First, that the practice of mindfulness can save me from uneccessary stress and anger and help me let them go when and if I want. Second, that having a dog helps me have better relationships with everyone else in my life, including myself. I try my best to help Beefy not to wet his bed and he inadvertently helps me not wet the bed of my mind.
