Leash the Dog

Perhaps you've had this experience: You're walking along, absorbed in your own thoughts, when some guy comes jogging towards you. But he's not alone. He's got a dog. Unleashed.
Or maybe you're in the park with your kids. From out of nowhere streaks a dog, its owner yelling frantically - maybe trying to get it to chase a Frisbee instead of your kid.

Or you're walking your own dog - which of course you keep leashed - when, another dog, bigger, faster, comes flying in from nowhere, making a direct line for your more restrained, less aggressive pet.

Now in all three scenarios, one of two things can happen: the unleashed dog can be as friendly as its owner says it is. Or, despite the helpless protestations of the owner, the dog goes into attack mode.

In the first case, the unleashed dog just wants to play. With you. With its dirty paws all over you.

Or with your child, who's scared out of her mind, because the dog's bigger, faster and knocking her down or running over her.

In the last scenario, you probably don't want your dog trying to run off with the stranger's dog.

So except in designated doggy areas, leash the dog.

There's a spiritual parallel to this, of course, because we all have our "inner dogs." The animal within us - the animal soul - can take many metaphoric forms, but surely it can be a bit dog-like.

What does that mean? All dogs share two traits: they're loyal and they're undisciplined - impulsive, if you prefer.

Our inner dog is the same way: it's loyal, it's the inner emotional response that justifies our mood. Did someone "stroke" us? Do we see a game we'd like to join? Or has someone entered our space? Is someone else getting attention? That awakens our inner attack dog.

And our inner dog - the animal part of ourselves that we pamper (it's okay not to exercise, it's all right to skimp on a mitzva) or allow to sic (so what if I embarrassed him, who cares if the candy might not be kosher) - acts impulsively.

Our "inner dog" can't help itself any more than a real one. But we can help it. Because there's one other critical trait dogs have: they can be trained. And they can be leashed.

We can do the same with our "inner dog." We can train it. You put a coin in a pushka (charity box) before your morning coffee. You look for the kosher symbol on the product before you buy it. You read the weekly Torah thought that the rabbi sends you before you delete it.

But even when we've trained ourselves, gotten our "inner dog" disciplined, we have to remember that by nature it's impulsive. It'll forget all that training in an instant to chase a squirrel or dig up the yard. In other words, we might let our enthusiasm for "dog things" run wild. We might become energized by chasing cars or scaring children, thinking both are forms of play.

That's why our "inner master," our rational soul, has to keep our "inner dog" on a leash. We have to discipline ourselves, train ourselves, restrain ourselves.

Then we can take our "inner dog" for a walk, among people and other dogs. We might even be able to enter it into a spiritual dog show - where it could be a real prize winner.