The Rule of the Fence

A pack of agitated, barking dogs

The Rule of the Fence

The sun was up, and while its light made the morning sky alight, it wasn’t peeking over the Oquirrh Mountains yet.  That makes it the perfect time to refresh the water trough and my cows with cool water.  My dog, “Hairy Pupper,” also likes to chase the water and snap at it as it leaves the hose, so I invite him to come along, on his leash, every morning.

In the early morning you’ll find us walking out the door to begin our trek up the gravel drive to complete our daily walking and watering ritual.  Our first stop is at the gate to enter the pasture.  As we approach, Hairy begins to look left.  He knows what’s coming and he is filled with anticipation as we near the gate.  At the first clink of the latch-chain, his anticipation is turned to eager engagement.  My neighbor’s pack of dogs runs toward us with their ears no longer listening and their mouths lashing, uncontrollably, with barks and growls.

It is all part of their instinctual, unaccountable dance.  I know it well because I’ve watched it play out for many years.  The pack knows our routine and they wait.  Dogs don’t wear a watch, and they know what day it is and they can tell time. 

They also know the “Rule of the Fence.”  There is a fence between us to protect them, to keep us apart.  They know every inch of that fence!  When they reach it, they strain and push, they snarl and bark and they know it does not yield.  It is an integral part of the game.  But, on this day the game changed just slightly.

This pack has dogs of different sizes.  Hairy and I usually see the two largest dogs.  We know there are three other ones, but they’re usually in their house when we go out to walk and water.  On this particular day, my neighbor’s three other, smaller dogs, came were out as well.  So, the dance routine was altered slightly.  There were more participants.  The noise was increased.  And, the Rule of the Fence was altered.

The Rule of the Fence is simple.  The dogs can act as nasty and tough as they want to, without consequence.  Yes, they can snarl, bark, bite, scratch and kick at us as much as they want.  After all, they can’t really hurt us.  And, Hairy and I can’t really hurt them either.  We’re on different sides of the fence which is all seemingly good until someone breaks this critical and basic rule of engagement.  And on this day, it was broken!

The smallest dog in the pack can fit through the fence’s mesh!  He came right through!  The Rule of the Fence no longer applied!  I looked at him.  Hairy looked at him.  Then, when he saw and knew that he had broken the rule, he looked at us quite differently!

The look on his face could be called the definition of accountability.  Hairy, a Fluffy Welsh Corgi, is about three times larger than he is.  I’m about fifty times larger than he is.  His pack, no matter how much they wanted to, could not protect him.  He was on his own!  Now, he could be held accountable for his barks and actions, and he taught me some important lessons about accountability.

First, the things we say and do, when we think we’re protected or anonymous, can really hurt us and others even though the Rule of the Fence exists.

Second, there are times when the Rule of the Fence no longer applies and then new, sometimes frightening, different rules operate.

Third, we are truly accountable for our words and actions, personally and as a group, whether the Rule of the Fence is in force, or not.

Finally, knowledge of accountability changes all conversation and actions immediately.

As soon as the little dog understood his new position his demeanor changed.  He was less fierce.  He had less to say.  He was no longer as aggressive toward us.  He became a cute, welcoming, diminutive dog.  It was as if the rising sun had revealed his new community nature.

The sun of nature was up, and while its light made the morning sky alight, it wasn’t peeking over the Oquirrh Mountains yet.  Still, it gave my dog Hairy Pupper and me new illumination regarding the Rule of the Fence and Accountability.

A Loose Tie

“I just stopped by to talk.  Everything is alright!” – Steve Miller

A Loose Tie

It was that time.  Sometimes I get all wrapped up in what I’m doing and time gets away from me.  It never gets away from Merlin, my dog.  He always seems to know exactly what day it is, the time and what should be happening.  If you have a dog, you’ve seen the kind of look he walked over to give me before!  It was his, hopeful!  Are you kidding me? It’s time to go look!  So, just after 8 pm, we left our house and began walking east.

I have lots of friends living east of me, but one of them was having major surgery within the next three days so when we walked past his house I noticed the blue Toyota Camry in the drive and wondered.

“That’s not a car I see there normally.”  I muttered to myself with a slight glance and I worried just a little.

The car was beginning to point its nose into the wind and move forward out of the drive and on to the street.  At first, it began turning toward the setting sun.  Then it stopped, turned, backed up a little and its tires began their circular motion toward us.

“I thought that was you.”  Steve Miller said as he creeped up next to Merlin and me.

Steve’s tie was loose around his neck.  I knew he was tired.  We had talked earlier in the day.  He had been with clients, working.  It was a Friday night and he had worked long into the evening every day this week.  I asked him about his long hours once as we brain stormed some marketing ideas for his business.  So, I knew this was the norm for him.

“It’s what I have to do.”  He said as we brain stormed.  “You know how it is?  You work when your clients need you.”

This was just like him.  He knew his neighbor, and friend, needed some support before surgery so he stopped in to make sure everything was alright.  He stopped before he had been home.  He stopped before he had eaten any dinner. Now, his last stop, before reaching his home to receive a well-earned hero’s welcome, was on the street just so he could greet a little dog and me.

It was that time.  Sometimes I get all wrapped up in what I’m doing and time gets away from me.  It never gets away from my friend Steve.  He always seems to know exactly what day it is, the time and what should be happening.  If you have a friend and neighbor like Steve, you’ve seen the kind of look he drove over and gave me!  It was his, cheerful, is everything alright in your world, I’m here to offer you encouragement look!  So, just after 8:30 pm, Steve left our side and began driving east, on his way home, finally!

Because, you see, the hero’s in my neighborhood are wearing loose ties, because they’re out working.  Out doing good.  Before they go home, after a long day in the office.  They’re out helping their neighbors, when their neighbors need them.

Scramble

Golfing with friends for a great cause.

Scramble

I might be the worst golfer, well, ever.  So, when someone asks me if I play, my answer is, “Sort of.  I play once or twice per year, whether I need to, or not.  After all, it’s a game I don’t understand.  I always get the highest score, but for some reason, they say I haven’t won!”  But, this week I gained some new insight into an old game.

I got up early, one day, to drive to Hill Air Force Base to play in the Coldwell Banker Foundation fund raiser event with some friends.  They invited me to come and while I knew I would add no value to their team score, I knew I would enjoy their company and help raise money to assist others.  The event was organized in a scramble format.

A scramble format allows four players to play as a team.  Each player hits from the tee and then each player hits their next shot from the position of the best ball and so on, until the team’s ball goes into the cup on the green.  It’s an interesting take on a game that is individual in nature, while teaching some valuable lessons:

·      Individuals are encouraged to play their best. 

·      The round of golf is sped up. 

·      It takes advantage of individual expertise. 

·      Players collaborate and learn from each other.

When I’m playing in a scramble format I try much harder to play my very best.  I feel a different motivation from when I’m playing as an individual.  I don’t want to let my team down so I stay focused the entire round.  When playing on my own, I begin to lose interest after five or six holes because I can see that the course is designed to defeat me.  Because others on my team make a better shot than I do, I feel hopeful and want to contribute to the success of the whole.

As we succeed as a team, our focus is on moving forward from success to success, and our progress through the course is faster than it otherwise would be.  I don’t get as discouraged or lost in the weeds looking for my errant balls as I would on my own.  My friends keep me motivated toward winning, good shot after good shot.

That means I enjoy the advantage of the individual expertise of my team mates.  I’ve found that each one of us have special skills in each aspect of the game.  One may be a great putter.  One may be skilled at driving.  Another may be able to hit out of the rough well.  And, I get to stand right there as they evaluate and hit. 

That means I learn more about each part of the game.  Player collaboration allows me to ask questions so I can understand the how and why of each situation.  Members of my team have taught me things I never would have considered individually.  It’s a great way to learn and teach. Perhaps the scramble format is simply a better way to play golf as well as to live our lives off the golf course.

I might be the worst golfer, well, ever.  But, when someone asks me if I play my new answer is, “Sort of.  I play once or twice per year, if I can play in a scramble format.  After all, that makes it a game where I am encouraged to play my best, quickly learn from the expertise of my team mates and collaborate so I can become better.”

Perhaps my brain is a scramble, but this week I gained some new insight as to a better way to approach living life.