Trapped or Protected?

This morning I went to my parents' to pick up Fifi and take her for our run. 

When I walked in three of the kids were free, but Nini was locked in the living room by a fence.

I looked at her behind her fence and asked her why she was trapped.

I immediately lifted the fence to set her free and Fifi made a bee-line straight to the recliner, pushing her face into the bowl on the recliner.

Realizing what I had done, I hurried over to remove the bowl of food Fifi had just tucked into.

Nini takes forever to eat her food. She has a little bitty chihuahua mouth, so she takes each piece of food out of her bowl, places it on the surface of whatever her and her bowl are on and eats them individually.

Georgie, Luca and Fifi tend to eat their food more speedily. So, when they complete their breakfast, they tend to congregate around Nini and her still-present portion. 

To protect Nini and allow her to eat unfettered. when my dad feeds them, he places Nini somewhere the other kids can't get at her food so she can eat at her own pace without anyone attempting to swipe her yum-yums.

She had not been trapped. She'd been protected.

I immediately felt she was trapped and needed to be freed. It didn't even occur to me she might be grateful for her circumstances.

Maybe this is the case when we don't get what we want.

We don't have the whole picture. Only a little piece of it.

Maybe we're annoyed or unhappy at what seems like a missed opportunity or feel stuck where we are. But without being able to see all around us, we can't see that what we want might not be what we're making it out to be.

Maybe a higher source is watching us, "trapping" us in our present circumstances so that we'll be able to eat at our own pace and grow into who we need to be. Maybe then, what we wanted might not even appeal to us so much anymore. 

Maybe it's a matter of perspective.

When I used to take the boys to the dog park, we'd get into the enclosed field and I'd take their leashes off one at a time.

Georgie first, because he'd be straining against the leash until I set him free.

The instant I unhooked him, he was off and doing his own thing. He never looked at me again. He was big man on campus, Brady Bunch style, at the dog park.

He'd  approach the other dogs. Ask how everyone was doing. Could he get anyone anything? 

He was where he could be his charming self. The Tony Randall of pooches.

When I unhooked Luca, I felt him internally gasp at being untethered from me. It was as though I'd let go of his hand in the deep end of the pool without him knowing how to swim.


One time when I unhooked him, I looked up to check where George was. 


I spotted George, but then I couldn't see Luca.


He must've run off when I looked away for a second. I looked at every inch of the field and didn't see him.


I started to panic like a mother who's lost her kid in ShopRite.


Luca! I yelled. Luca! Luca!!!


Some guy poked me in my arm. 


Is that him, he said, looking down at my feet.


When I'd unhooked Luca, he'd decided if he wasn't tethered to me by a leash, he'd be by proximity. 


For George, the leash is a trap. For Luca, it's protection.


Perspective is everything. As they say, it's not what happens to you. It's what you tell yourself about what happens to you.


Are you trapped or protected?