Gracie was the Houdini of dog crates. At dog shows, we were the people who everyone talked about because our dog refused to be confined. The last time we tried to put her in a crate, we came back from a restroom break, and she had rolled that crate across the floor to the other side of the arena. Gracie was proud of herself—she came close to breaking free and still kept all her teeth! She always found a way out of the crate or took the crate with her during attempted escapes.
We finally gave up, and Skipper took the title of “crate man.” He kept her at his feet or on his lap, or chair beside him, while I worked with my other dogs. I came across a photo of Gracie’s “crate man” today and thought about the lessons I learned from that girl. Gracie was sometimes lost in between Holly, Mavis, and Mabel, but she was such a wonder dog.
She helped me get past my fear of stepping into the dog arena to compete. Even when we were disqualified, she made sure the experience included comic relief. I thought if I ever heard the words from a judge, “Dog out of the arena!” they would break me and I would crumble into a puddle of tears, but it didn’t happen. Instead, I watched her jump a ring fence, hug a judge, and jump back over with another dog’s treat in her mouth. They disqualified us before we even began. Go big or go home, right? Or, in Gracie’s case, “Go home in a big way.” That was life with Gracie. She loved big, learned big, and even disqualified big. But she also earned plenty of obedience titles, and she did it with pure joy.
Many of you read the blog post about our experience at nationals, and how I left the trial in tears, promising I would never compete again. Never say never. 
Gracie earned a ribbon at that trial, and it was me who needed to learn a lesson: Don’t listen to the noise and focus on the mission at hand. With God’s help, I was enough, regardless of what anyone else said about my dog handling skills.
Mom attended one trial, and together, we jumped for joy on the sidelines. I do this. There is no way I can contain myself after I finish with my dogs in the ring. The judge watched Mom and I joy jumping and later told me, “I see where you get it.” That was the last trial Mom attended before her health declined quickly. I don’t remember the ribbon, or even where we placed, but I remember the joy jump with Mom.
When I look at this photo, I am reminded that life is short, and it’s okay to celebrate every day God gives us. Gracie lived her 12 years like that. Never a bad day, and even found joy in the midst of disqualifying. I also learned from Gracie that it’s okay to refuse confinement in a crate. Don’t stay inside the box, but live where the miracles are. They rarely happen when we’re stuck inside four walls.
Love people and be genuine about care and kindness. Don’t pretend to care. Dig in and meet people where they are, accept them, and then love with abandon. When you got a hug from Gracie, YOU GOT A HUG. People need that, especially during this past pandemic time of disconnection, isolation, and uncertainty.
We said goodbye to Gracie almost one year ago. My heart was broken, yet full because she poured so much love into our lives. In her last moments, she laid with her arm around Mavis, who left this world at the same time. Gracie was full of love, even in the leaving.
I want to love and live like Gracie. Life is so short, so don’t wait until the timing is perfect to love and give more. That time may never come, but today is here and now. Joy jump and turn a cartwheel or two while you can! Live outside the crate, and don’t worry about disqualifying or how many ribbons you’re earning. You are enough. Just keep loving and giving.
Thank you, Gracie. You taught us well.
lisabain.com
Lisa Bain Ministries