Two small dogs are sitting down and staring straight at you. The one on the left is fluffy and is wearing a bandana around its neck. It’s sticking its tongue out and smiling. The dog on the right has its head cocked to the left, as though it’s curious about what you’re thinking. Both dogs have their ears perked straight up. Their boopable noses are black and their eyes are kind and loving.

Put a leash on patience: take a paws with pocket dogs

I’m not a patient person.

And impatience gives way to frustration.

When plans go sideways. When traffic is bad. And when walking my two pocket pooches, Pip and Frankie.

I’m tested daily by these tiny animals.

Frankie is a puppy—a ball of energy and still in training. It’s 50/50 whether she obeys a command. Pip is older—stuck in her ways. And a bit neurotic.

Walking the two can be a nightmare.

  • Frankie zooms around and tries to eat everything she comes across: Pip trots along slowly and always stops to smell the world

  • Frankie barks at strangers and other dogs: Pip gets triggered and barks along like a lunatic (pack mentality, amirite?)

  • Sometimes, the two decide to play together mid-walk, criss-crossing their leashes and ignoring me completely

It’s a bit embarrassing. Worse, it’s aggravating. And I’ve lost my temper more than a few times—which is a lot embarrassing.

How am I dealing?

Being patient is a lifelong pursuit. So I’m taking it one day and one dog walk at a time.

It starts with self-awareness and ownership.

Meaning, I cause my own suffering by losing control of my thoughts. This opens the door to Richard’s intrusion.

Meaning, Pip and Frankie aren’t annoying me. I’m annoying myself.

Meaning, the dogs aren’t barking me mad during our walks. No, they’re teaching me about patience.

Pip and Frankie love to go for walks. They love to play with each other and with me. They live in the moment.

I see walks as an inconvenience. Time taken from work and personal projects. Time wasted. Because there’s always something. A thing to start, a thing to finish, and more things in the queue.

Thing is, you miss out on life when all you think about is the to-do list.

So be present. Don’t lose patience worrying about what else needs to be done. It’s always waiting.

But the time you have right now—it disappears with each passing second.

  • Take a breath
  • Take in the sights and smells
  • Take a sidequest and chase a few squirrels

How you talk to yourself dictates your mood throughout the day. Ultimately, it determines the joy you get out of life.

When I view walking the dogs as an inconvenience, when I let Richard lead the conversation, I ruin the moment. Breathing the fresh air and feeling the sun against my skin, listening to the sounds of the city and taking in its sights—what should be enjoyable turns sour.

But not for Pip and Frankie. They take it all in and love every second.

They don’t have a voice inside tearing down something beautiful. They don’t have a voice telling them there are more important things to be done, making them worry about lost time.

Pip and Frankie don’t have to deal with negative self-talk because they’re dogs. Even if they did, they’ve learned to ignore it.

And so must you.

Pip and Frankie come with obligations: feeding and cleaning them, walking them and picking up their shit.

They also come with rewards: unconditional love, no judgement, and a number of health benefits, mental and physical.

But there’s a cost. A daily price for the daily benefits.

To Pip and Frankie, I am their human. For as long as they live. They have nothing but admiration for me. All they ask is to be cared for. To be treated as family, as man’s best friend.

You are the world to some. Some look up to you. Some rely on you to show up every day. Whether you want to or not, sick or not. This is life, like it or not.

Step up and own it.

Life has a way of testing you. It’s inevitable, necessary. From the annoying to the tragic, the inconvenient to the unfair.

But you have a choice: to view such tests as hardships or opportunities.

When you lose patience, you lose control. You make mistakes, some you can’t take back. You become vulnerable. To anger, anxiety, and stress. To poor judgement, poor choices, and poor health.

This is why patience is a virtue. It helps restore reason before you react impulsively. It balances emotions, brings control to chaos.

For some, patience comes naturally. Others (like me), it’s a work in progress.

Take it one day and one dog walk at a time.

There are three pencils, each with a broken tip.

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