Zee taught me a lot of things.
This might have been the most important.
One day when I was walking with Zee, another dog across the street decided he didn’t like her. He went absolutely ballistic—barking, growling, standing on his hind legs while his owner tried to wrestle him back to earth.
Zee gave a surprised half-bark, like, excuse me? and looked at me for direction.
I told her to sit, and she did. She always listened to me.
“Be the bigger dog,” I told her. “Don’t let him ruin your walk. It’s a beautiful day. You’re with your mommy. You don’t even know him. Who cares what he thinks? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.”
She sat there calmly while he lost his mind.
That dog gave me more epiphanies than most people ever have.
How many times has someone barked at you for no reason and you let it ruin your mood? A stranger in a lobby. Someone at the grocery store. Someone who ignores your good morning like you personally offended them by existing. Or, if you live in Jersey, gives you the finger and asks what’s so fucking good about it.
Or someone at work who doesn’t like how you answered an email, or spelled their name, or booked their travel. You fix it, because that’s who you are. You learn, you adjust, and you move on.
But some people don’t bark because you did something wrong. They bark because that’s what they do.
Being the bigger dog is realizing you don’t have to join them. Their noise isn’t yours to carry. You can let them have their moment while you keep walking.
Zee didn’t escalate. She didn’t take it personally. She just stayed beside me, steady and calm, like he was nothing more than background noise.
And eventually, he was.
I used to have a Portuguese Water Dog who was completely unflappable. If a dog could shrug, that's what he'd do whenever another dog barked at him. It was a great attitude.
Thank you so much for sharing this heartwarming story with Zee. Such an important message to your story.