My ex & a Willful Boxer Dog Named Argos & a Lesson in Serenity

My ex-husband was generally a failure at pet training. But one memorable episode taught us both an important spiritual lesson.

Argos was a young, happy and energetic boxer dog we had since he was a pup, given to us by friends who raised boxers. We had just moved across country, settled into a nice rented house and bought our first brand new sofa. My ex-husband was definite that our dog should not be allowed on this new icon of our household.

Every time we were in the house with Argos, he obeyed, curling up soulfully at our feet, not daring to invade the people-space of our couch. Yet every evening when we returned from work, there would be a warm indentation in the couch, and a guilty look on Argos's face. "NO!" my ex would admonish, shaking his finger in Argos's face. "NO!"

But every day the same ritual would happen. Argos was a good pooch by night, and a couch sitter by day. My ex devised a scheme. "Trust me," he said, "I majored in psychology." He then explained to me that since the dog liked the comfort of the couch, we should make it uncomfortable during the day. Every day for three days when we left, my ex would place newspaper on the couch. Every night for three nights when we came home, the paper would be on the floor, and a warm dent would be in the couch cushion.

However, now Argos had lost his guilty expression. Now it was a contest. Now he seemed to be smirking. We had a smirking boxer dog. There isn't much that looks more insulting.

Plan B from my ex surfaced after days of grumbling. It involved cayenne pepper. He explained to me, "Dogs always sniff before they go on a new surface." So, his idea was that the dog would sniff the hot pepper, get a rude shock to his nose, and back off. After all, that is what the books said about how to keep a dog out of the trash.

We learned that couches are not trash.

Every day for two days we would leave with newspapers and a liberal shower of various hot pepper powders on the papers. Every day for two days we would come home to a warm dent in the couch, and a pile of papers and hot pepper powder on our carpet.

"This is not working," my ex said.

The dog and I gave each other a shared look.

The next day my ex went to the hardware store and returned with a bag of mousetraps. "I'll set up the traps on the couch so that when he jumps up, they'll go off and scare him." I was concerned that the dog would get hurt. My ex assured me that the traps would just go off without catching our dog in them. And he was right.

What he had not counted on was the fact that the dog didn't care about the traps going off. He knew that he was not a mouse. We'd come home to a warm dent on the couch, a pile of set-off traps on one of the cushions, and a dog who smelled victory in the air. Argos was getting smug. My ex was sulking.

The next day when I got home, my ex had arrived before me. He greeted me at the door with a glass of champagne.

"I have solved the dog on the couch problem!" he exclaimed.

"You have?" I asked, incredulous.

"I have. The dog is now allowed on the couch.. Problem solved."

I toasted his wisdom; we drank our mutual health; and the dog, as if on cue, jumped up on the couch. I swear he was grinning.

And therein was the lesson. So what if the dog was on the couch? What possible harm could it do? The dog didn't eat couches. He just slept on them.

But my ex had gotten into a tug-of-wills about an issue that really didn't matter. The moment he realized that, he stopped. Like the old maxim - "Want to win at tug-of-war? Drop the rope!"

Sometimes we just need to drop the rope, take the mousetraps off the couch and realize that some problem we have been fussing about is really not that big a deal.

If I have a dandelion in my lawn, it's not the end of the world. If I am two minutes late, life goes on. If traffic is heavy, I can't change it by raising my blood pressure. If my kid happily chooses a top that doesn't match the pants, who cares? If I didn't have time to make a cake, the world will not end. Fill in your own blanks of what really can slide without your being worked-up about it first.

There are big things to fret about -- big things we can impact. There is aid that can be sent to Haiti, people to elect, congresspeople to contact, hungry people to feed. There is good will to spread. There are acts of kindness to do. And we all can take a luxurious bath by candlelight if we want.

We do not have to control everything in the world. Accept what is not yours to control. Our ambition can be for sanity as opposed to getting the diagram colors in exactly the right shade on the PowerPoint presentation. Today's big question should be -- "Does it make any difference really?"