Our animals teach us about commitment to love

Clarion Herald Column

We brought home a new puppy recently, bringing an equal ratio of canines to humans. Life is never dull in our small household.

It was a somewhat unexpected decision. But as with most things in life, when you know, you just know.

These past six months have been something of a roller coaster. Continually, it seems, I’ve been reminded of the meaning of commitment. Commitment to my husband, my job, my family, my friends.

The first two definitions listed for “commitment” at first seem contradictory. “The state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity, etc.,” reads the initial entry. Directly below: “an engagement or obligation that restricts freedom of action.”

Reading those definitions initially, I sided with the second one. Yes, I told myself after a particularly difficult emotional time in my marriage, this commitment has certainly restricted my own freedom.

In those moments when I was asking myself what had happened to the person I thought I had married, when I looked around at my life and the difficulties that we had faced and still had to overcome, it was easy to think back on the simplicity of living once again on my own.

It’s in those moments that I remembered my family telling us over and over again: the devil only needs one small crack, one invitation.

Viewing marriage as a restriction of freedom was, for me, that small reminder – the ever-present free will, providing two distinct paths of possibility.

Because, as the dictionary helpfully provides, the first definition of commitment is dedication. It is devotion. It is being passionate and driven.

We all have moments of hardship. The stresses of life, the choices we’ve made, the struggles we face alone – all of these things contribute to small chips in the foundation of so many of our life-long commitments.

What I’ve recently realized is that those core commitments, the ones that provide a sense of security, aren’t made of china. They’re made of stronger stuff because they’re built on faith and devotion.

There will always be ups and downs. In my living room, directly across from the sofa, hangs our wedding picture.

It’s a constant reminder of our wedding vows: standing in front of the altar, hands intertwined. For better or worse, in sickness and in health.

Or, as one of my close friends and her husband sum up in two words: never bail.

So, why did we get a new puppy?

In the midst of turmoil, in the midst of an always present emotional tug-of-war, why add to the chaos?

As I write this column, my older dog – at age 4 – holds a rawhide in her mouth, whining, looking into each corner as a perfect spot to hide her favorite chew.

My newest – at 14 weeks – chomps down on a puppy chew, alleviating the pain from teething.

Both, in their own ways, need us.

In the absence of children, our fur-family provides us with a different perspective of commitment.

They’re with us through the good and bad. They give emotional support, but they also remind us of the brevity of life.

They’re with us for just a short period of time to teach us the best ways to love.

Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher can be reached at [email protected].