The Constellation Learning Newsletter
October 2007

Summer has come to a close - heavens, the holiday season will be upon us before we know it!

This particular summer was a poignant one for me. I fell in love - with a four-legged ball of fluff in the form of little golden retriever puppy. I told myself not to get too close, to maintain a professional distance, but puppies somehow squeeze into one’s bloodstream, enriching the flow, especially when experienced over a consistent time period.

Just like the most effective leaders, puppies are enthusiastic, open to new ideas, curious about life, and don’t take themselves too seriously.

Good advice for all of us…

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~ Monthly Message ~

“I think dogs are the most amazing creatures;
they give unconditional love. For me they are the
role model for being alive.”

-- Gilda Radner--

“Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot little puppies.”

-- Gene Hill--

Last spring I wrote of my sister’s decision to breed her golden retriever. August brought the fruit of that endeavor in the form of six magnificent puppies: four males and two females, all of which got carted up to our cottage in the 1000 Islands for their first eight weeks of life.

Everyone who came and went during August or September reveled in their progress and my various nephews and nieces took particular pleasure in their play times. One niece named them all: Teddy, Buddy, Buster, Lizzie, Molly (her favorite) and Peanut, the smallest of the bunch who stole everyone’s heart, mine in particular.

He was so much smaller, so frail at the beginning that I would often assist him to find and latch on to his mother’s teat else he would root around feebly to no avail. He came to know my touch, my scent, eventually my voice and finally my physical form as I’d carry a meal out to the pen. He came to trust me completely.

Puppies are as good an example of utter trust as one can find. Their first foray “en masse” to the water’s edge and subsequent individual initiation to wetness brought them bright-eyed up to their pen shivering with the excitement of having pushed their boundaries - and surviving! Later they discovered the front porch and the big rocks and the even bigger water beyond, and still they trusted. They would follow us anywhere.

When you think about it, their growth is quantum compared to ours. Born blind and deaf for the first 10 - 14 days of their lives, they wriggle about the pen, their limbs cumbersome and unsteady. They walk at 3 weeks, run at 4 weeks and come to your voice at 5 weeks, and at 6 they get their first set of vaccinations. It’s a sort of coming of age. By then, they’re off their mother’s milk and the supplementary baby cereal and onto dry puppy chow, and almost ready for their new families, having been picked out by prospective “parents” weeks prior.

One of those owners was a twelve year old boy from Kingston, Ontario, named Anthony who did odd jobs and chores all summer, helping his parents and neighbors wherever he could, saving over $500 in order to get his very own dog. He picked “Buddy,” friendly and confident and eager to please, and my sister said that putting that puppy into Anthony’s arms brought tears to her eyes. (But then, she’ll cry at almost anything.) She just had to take a picture. (She takes pictures of everything.)

Still, the image of that little boy lingers in my mind’s eye; so much love encased in such small bodies. I’m willing to bet that Buddy has a very good life and that Anthony learns as much from his new best friend as he ever will in school. The kind of stuff that lasts, that can only be learned in a relationship where trust exists as a two-way street.

Buster became Keaton and went to an empty-nester who had lost his dog, also a Golden, five years ago. A Trust Program graduate and friend of mine, Keaton’s arrival was like Christmas morning to this man. I’ve since been by to visit a couple of times to get a “puppy-fix;” to observe the sheer joy of trusting innocence and curious exploration expressed in boundless abandon.

At eight weeks you’d have never known that Peanut had been the runt. He’s personable, gentle, alert and intelligent. He was the first to try something new, showed no fear, and in fact was found one day asleep by the water’s edge, which is a very long way for a little pup to roam from the pack.

He was also the first chosen by prospective owners and I found I had to turn away to stem the tears which sprang to my eyes unbidden. I saw him the day before he was picked up and said goodbye. I will remember that little pup the rest of my life. Really. This summer was perhaps the most joyful, rewarding one of my life. Why? Because I was in service to that little pup and allowed myself to form an emotional attachment, to love Peanut anyway and to enter the relationship knowing I would eventually relinquish it.

My family used to raise golden retriever pups when I was growing up. My dad believed that in the caring for new-born creatures one learned compassion and fostered flexibility even as the nature of the relationship instilled responsibility. Caring for a litter of pups - the early morning feedings and puppy-pen clean-ups - created the consistency necessary for accountability to be nurtured and with it the two way highway of genuine affection.

Too bad more managers and leaders don’t take a few lessons from puppies. Seems to me that we could all use a little dose of puppy love, the kind of unfettered enthusiasm that only comes when we let loose of what we might lose and grab hold of what might be gained - the paradox of any endeavor undertaken with pure intent: inherent in the leap, in the relationship or endeavor, is the potential pain of future loss.

Proceeding anyway is not just an act of hope, but also a hallmark of courage.

Application Tips:

• “Look for the pay-off’s first”
  
  Too many of us think of all the things that could go wrong with our good ideas, our dreams and hopes. We don’t want to feel disappointment so we avoid taking the plunge. Whether it’s a new job or relationship, starting a family, or adopting a pet, look for the long-term pay-off’s first, then address the potential short-term costs.
  
  If they’re reversed, don’t proceed. If the potential pay-off’s out weight the potential costs, go for it! And if, as in the case of my choice with Peanut, you enter a situation where you know you’ll end up saying good-bye (volunteer situation, etc.) I guarantee you the joy of the leap and the love will far outweigh the pain of the parting. Even it will hold its own brand of joy from knowing you gave of yourself fully - anyway.
  
• “Accept the costs”
  
  There is always a cost to anything; doesn’t matter if it’s large, small, now or later. There’s a cost to everything. Knowing that up front and accepting it allows you the freedom of full engagement. If you don’t accept the possibility of the downside, then when the bill comes due, you’ll be caught short.

  The thing is, when you’re giving what you actually want to give then the costs, no matter what they are, are outweighed by the sheer joy in the giving of yourself.
  
  It’s a human paradox I’m still exploring. I’ll get back to you when I’ve figured it all out. (Oh, never mind. I’ll be dead)

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