A Letter To My Son

April 2019

Dear Broc,

You have a special gift.  I know a lot of mom’s say that about their children but this special gift isn’t just that you are my son and I’m required to love you and say those things….you actually have a gift that, for many, doesn’t come naturally.

At a very young age I saw this gift in you, really before you could talk.  I brushed it to the side many times until recently when I saw several things happen in rapid succession that proved to me, without a doubt, that you do possess a special gift.

Let me go back to the first time I saw this in you.  I immediately noticed it because I had already raised your sister and she didn’t preform in the same way that you did in these situations.  

You LOVED to play with match box cars.  You specifically loved to play with them on a particular brown blanket because the cars would make track marks in the fabric, sort of roads that you would lay and play with for what seems like hours.  You would spend a good amount of time getting the blanket perfectly laid on the floor and line up your cars in a row on the edge, taking them one by one making them make trails on this blanket for the other cars to follow.  If you remember, we had Poe then.  He was our heart dog….the dog that makes such an impact and is such a part of you that when they leave you they take a piece of your heart with them.  Poe was a therapy dog and was trained to lay on blankets as I used him as a reader dog for the schools.  Every time you wanted to play this car game he would want to lay on that blanket as you perfected its position.  One time, when you were very young, 2 or 3 at most, I came into the room to find Poe behind the baby gate.  I hadn’t remembered putting him there and it wasn’t common place for him to be locked out of the room with us.  I remember standing there for a short period and then turning to you to ask you if you had put him behind the gate.  You, still laying on the floor playing cars, nodded your head yes.  I remember asking you specifically if you did that so you could play cars.  Again, your little head nodding yes.  I was completely shocked!

(For those of you that have raised children with dogs, you may know that during that human developmental stage, they just tend to get frustrated with the dog, scream and yell and throw a fit when the dog isn’t doing what they want them to do.  As a dog trainer, I’ve seen dogs being hit, squeezed, pushed, stepped on and screamed at all in the name of frustration of a toddler.  This was how my daughter responded to frustration with dogs.  Let me clarify, she never hit any dog, but the level of frustration was so intense that her face would get red, she would scream and say things like “GO AWAY!”)

The next time I saw this gift in you was when you were about 8 years old.  Lucy was staying with us and it had been snowing all day, the snow was heavy and wet.  I asked you to let the dogs outside (3 dogs in total) and to stay there and watch them go to the bathroom and then let them back inside as soon as they were finished.  You did, and to my surprise, I found you wiping each dog down with a towel as they were covered in snow.  Lucy, the aging but lively chocolate lab, was holding relatively still while you quietly told her, “It’s ok girl, I’m just wiping you down.”  Again, this moment took me aback because that is not only atypical for a child your age, but you’re also a boy so people generally just expect you to be less compassionate.

This brings me to the most recent event.  I took some time to process before writing you this letter.  I wanted to be sure you knew just how special your gift is.  We had a new dog staying with us that had never been here before.  A young dog with a disposition similar to a boarder collie.  Active, intelligent, aroused by movements and sounds and with a bit of a wild streak that the owner and I were working on curbing.  This dog liked to nip and bite at moving people at times, as well as bark for attention, dig in the sofa, bite pillows and run away with things he wasn’t supposed to have.  This particular day he had decided to bite and nip after you when you came down the stairs.  I was unsuccessful settling him so I told you to sit at the chairs at the counter in the kitchen while I played defense with a chair for you.  I told you that he wasn’t being mean, rather trying to get you to “play” his way.  Despite sitting in that chair he nipped at your ankle from behind and through the chair.  You, 12 years old now, immediately started to cry while pulling your feet up into the seat so he could no longer reach them.  When I questioned why you were crying, wondering if you were hurt.  You said, “No.”  I asked if you were scared.  You said, “No.”  I asked you to tell me what was wrong and you said, “I want to hurt him.”  I sat there next to you, shocked at the level of maturity and strength your words showed me in that moment.  A 12 year old boy, so frustrated and overwhelmed, that chose to verbalize his emotions instead of acting on them.  A 12 year old boy who has compassion enough for animals that he realizes that physical violence isn’t going to “fix it.”  

The morning went on while I continued to process what had just happened.  Processing this gift that you continue to show me.  Later on that morning, you ran upstairs to grab some shoes, planning to go somewhere with your dad, and running down those same stairs that had unwittingly provoked that same dog to nip at your ankles earlier in the morning, you immediately slowed your movements when you reached the bottom step so as not to arouse the dog again.  I never told you to do that.  I was still processing what had happened earlier and you were on to the next great thing.  While you walked slowly across the room, controlled movements and watching the reaction of the dog all the way, the dog stayed under the arousal level and didn’t move towards your ankles again.  

Broc, your gift is bigger than dogs.  I notice it most when you interact with dogs but this goes far beyond the dogs themselves.  Your compassion will lead you to great things.  Your pure heart will show other people the way.  Your ability to show your emotions will make you different from other boys and men, making you a treasure to someone that understands your worth.  All that stupid stuff about “big boys don’t cry” is garbage, anyone that says that is just a coward.  Broc, you keep being exactly who you are.  I don’t know if you’ll do anything in the dog world but if you do, you’ll be a rockstar!!  

With all my love,
Mom aka Vet Tech Coach