The taming of Abby or Whose in charge here?

This is Abby. She is the Rutenbar's new puppy and she is a delight....well, most times. When we found her at the animal shelter the tag they had on her was corgi/hound mix. Now, I don't like to question the professionals...but....well, look at her! Anyway, she was sweet. My adult daughter, Libby, whose been telling us we need a dog in our life thought she was 'just a perfect dog for us' My husband, Mark, thought he might like this dog. He has wanted a "dog dog" and not some "fru fru" dog. I've been wanting a dog for some time, but, I was thinking something with like a poodle, a labradoodle or a cockerpoo -- but -- she was adorable and in no time I wanted her also. They told us she was three months old and in good health. But I took her to our vet, Bill Widdup, just to be sure. When I told him she was a corgi/hound mix he looked at me as if I had an eye problem. Don't see much 'corgi' he told me, but, I see some of the hound and I think some Rottweiler. Rottweiler! I said. I think Rottweilers are right up there with Pit Bulls and Dobermans! Then I got my lesson in dog breeds and the raising and taming of dogs. Dogs are the way they are because they have been trained to be aggressive or have been abused. She will be a sweet dog if you raise her right and teach her some obedience. Okay, but can we just put her breed down as a beagle mix? I asked. Well, with shots up to date, a bath and a good once over she was ours and we began the taming of Abby.

She's a bright little dog with a very big bark and a strong will. Superceding all of that is an enormous desire to please. One small accident in the house and several trips out to the backyard with a box full of snacks seemed to take care of the house training issue - we were lucky. It was evident that someone had worked with her before we got her and was kind and loving to her. I've lost one non-poisonous houseplant which she promptly threw up -- but that hasn't seemed to dissuade her from trying again, and again, and again. She's a puppy and she does puppy things. She jumps on the furniture, she jumps in our faces, chews on everything and needs at least a good 2-4 mile walk every day. and she needs obedience training - but I think I'm the one learning a little obedience here - and it's good for me.

For the last several years my doctor has been encouraging me to get more exercise and for the last year she has been explaining to me the consequences of my sloth. High cholesterol, diabetes, risk of stroke, risk of heart attack and the list goes on. Yet, it seemed that once I left the doctors office and headed for the nearest McDonald's for a double cheeseburger it was all just a bad memory. I felt that nagging urge, not only from my doctor, but from God. It wasn't really about saving my life, it was about saving my soul. Bringing into order that which is in disorder. I have a favorite book written by The Rev. Dr. William Stafford entitled: Disordered Loves: Healing the Seven Deadly Sins. Dr. Stafford writes: In some respects we are still in solidarity with the old order of things. the "old Adam" as Paul calls it, still acts as if it were alive; the "old yeast" threatens to sour the dough. The sneaking thought of ourselves as gods, solitary and autonomous, still lives within us and our communities.

The spiritual sin of sloth (accidie), as Dr. Stafford tells us is a form of spiritual despair, a refusal of grace, a bargain with nothingness, that shuts out God's gift of the new possibility. I have to say that, for the most part, I don't feel like I am trapped in a deadly sin and I suppose that is why it is so deadly for me. It takes a lot of energy, motivation and consistency to bring into rule that which has become unruly. It is easier in the short run to just ignore it. The more inactive I become the slower I feel. The God-life, writes Joan Chittiser, is a never-ending, unremitting, totally absorbing enterprise. God is intent on it; so mus we be. The Hebrew poet Moses Ibn Ezra writes: 'those who persist in knocking will succeed in entering.' ...It is not perfection that leads us to God; it is perseverance.

I'm writing this with Abby sleeping sweetly and peacefully at my feet. This has been days of training and she is still on the leash which is hooked to my desk. If I decide I don't want to be such a disciplinarian and let her run, just for a little bit, all hell breaks loose. First it's climbing on the furniture, into the plants and then chewing up the end tables. It doesn't start all at once--but whatever I ignore becomes an excuse for another bad habit. She is really, a very good puppy, but she's a puppy and she needs to learn. We are not puppies, but we still need to learn, again and again.