ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Steven Petrow is an
award-winning journalist
and a columnist for The
Washington Post and
USA Today and a regular
contributor to The New York
Times. He is also the author
of five books on etiquette,
including his most recent,
Steven Petrow’s Complete
Gay & Lesbian Manners. He
and Zoe peacefully coexist
in Hillsborough, NC.
tretched into a
Downward Fac-
ing Dog pose in
a yoga class, I lis-
tened as the instruc-
tor talked about the “cycle
of acceptance.” Modeled on
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five
stages of loss and grief, the
cycle is a way of absorbing
a painful blow and work-
ing your way through to,
well, acceptance. When our
teacher suggested that each
of us identify the situation
that we most needed to
resolve, I knew mine imme-
diately. It had to do with my
then-husband, who had just
started divorce proceed-
ings: “Accept Jim for who
he is and let go.”
Since separating from
my ex, I had zigzagged
around feelings of denial,
depression, bargaining, and
anger (yes, mostly anger).
But I couldn’t move closer
to acceptance. Guided
meditations helped some,
especially a few specifically
on “acceptance” and “sur-
render,” but still fell short.
Looking back now, how-
ever, I’ve come to realize
that it was my relationship
with Zoe, my now-16-year-
old Jack Russell terrier,
that revealed critical les-
sons about acceptance that
were strong enough to dis-
sipate my lingering anger.Hello Zoe,
the Terrier-istZoe came as a package
deal with Jim 14 years
ago, when she was a two-
year-old “terrier-ist.” We
each brought a dog to our
romantic partnership: My
canine baggage included
Max, a rescue Cocker
Spaniel then pushing 10. He
was sweet as honeysuckle
nectar, if a bit goofy and
completely clueless—and
Zoe, too smart and too
wound up, wanted nothing
to do with him. Early on,
she set the tone when she
backed Max into a corner
and bloodied him with her
razor-like incisors. I could
hardly believe that such
a little dog—12 pounds—
could be so aggressive. But
that’s the nature of both the
breed and denial: a suspen-
sion of belief.
I quickly turned to
bargaining (think bribery)
to try to find a resolution,
desperately attempting to
win Zoe over with treats
of every flavor (even wild
boar). I gave her a squeaky
toy squirrel—which, every
single morning, she flipped
high into the air before
attempting to break its
neck. I remained deter-
mined to woo her, since
I knew this relationship
needed to work in order for
Jim and me to succeed. But
it didn’t—at least not during
our marriage.
The reign of the ter-
rier continued after we
all moved in together. I
did my best to soothe the
relationship: dividing the
house with gates, calming
the dogs (and myself ) with
anti-anxiety medications,s
even arranging therapy at
the North Carolina State
Veter i n a r y Ca n i ne B eh av-
ioral Service.
The problem wasn’t just
between the pooches. Zoe
bit me on several occasions
(often enough that I kept
the antibacterial Phisoderm
at the ready). One night,
Zoe unexpectedly lunged at
my face, tearing my upper
lip and sending me to the
ER post-haste. Forget the
bargaining—I found myself
squarely at anger, with a
good-sized dose of depres-
sion thrown in (oh, and
pain, too).
The canine conflict
became a recurrent theme
in our couples therapy,
which also focused on
mutual acceptance of each
other’s faults and foibles.
While Zoe and Max were
not invited, their ongoing
battle often mirrored our
sessions.70 mindful August 2019
voices