A dog story or why trust is sometimes a matter of life and death

This fall brought me not just the traditional organic (bio) markets, where I drop by every Saturday morning, but also what seemed at some point to be a tragedy.

They say that life is much more beautiful when you have a dog. And it’s also said that when you have a cat, you learn to give love, when you have a dog, you learn to receive. I’d say that when you have a dog, you learn what trust is.

In my case, my black Labrador Argos, who’s full of life, entered my family 12 years ago. He is for me a child, partner, friend, a guardian. Yet, one Saturday at the end of November, it seemed like it’s the moment when he will say his final goodbye.

Before going to the market I passed his part of courtyard and noticed that he was very sad, laying inertly without his usual jumps and happiness. As the fear of losing him started crawling inside me, I could see on fast forward the road to the vet, the fatal diagnose and the end itself. I felt unsure and guilty for not treating his hematoma, as the previous vet advised me in the spring. At that time, my intuition had told me it’s better not to. “What if the operation itself is too much for him at this age?”, I thought.

I took Argos into the car and departed for the veterinary clinic. The gate keeper let me go directly to the guard room, after seeing the dog in pain.

This time, I went to a new, younger doctor, who carefully listened to my story full of resentment and smiled to me. “Let’s take a blood sample”, he said, “and see what’s wrong with him”. And although I was still feeling guilty and scared, the doctor’s trustful attitude remounted me.

Next morning, I called the doctor, trembling, and he told me to meet. I begged him to tell me the truth on the phone and he said, with a laugh, that the medical tests went okay. It was probably just a tough indigestion and Argos will soon be recovered.

I drove with confidence and a smile on my face. My dog didn’t need an operation, but a healthy treatment. Then I asked the doctor about my decision to postpone the operation, his answer amazed me. It had been a great idea, he said. Argos might have not survived an operation. It wouldn’t have been the first dog to die because of the same problem this year.

So I brought him back and happily took him into his part of the courtyard. As we speak, he’s just fine, barking again.

This experience taught me that despite it’s difficult, you must remain confident and trust your intuition even when exposed to negative events. If you trust that things might go the right way, then chances are they will. I don’t know if taking Argos to the surgery might have killed him or not. All I know is that he is alive now.

My doubt sneaked in because he couldn’t tell me how he was feeling. It’s exactly what can happen with a coach when clients comes in with problems and aren’t able to perceive or articulate them.

When you are confident and express it, any belief or preconception disappears. This is the least that my relationship with Argos deserves. This is the least that the relationship with any client of yours should be about.