One of my earliest life memories is a love of dogs.
My parents bred hunting dogs, and when the mama would deliver, I’d stay out there all night, sleeping in the dog bed with them.
Around 7 years old, I remember seeing Scholastic Book magazines at school. And I wanted to order something from the book like my friends! So I saved my money, and I’ll never forget the one order that I placed from that magazine… as I flipped through the pages, my heart skipped a beat.
There. He. Was: the cutest creature I had ever seen.
My hands yearned to touch it, I imagined how its fur would feel…
I could imagine his smell, just like that blissful puppy breath from the hunting dog litters we’d had.
I had to have it.
And with my hard-earned coins, I bought… not a puppy, but the poster.
The poster was of a wrinkly, fat, smooshy little dog sitting with its butt toward the camera, head turned back over its shoulder (at least, that’s how my mind remembers it). That poster hung on my bedroom wall well into my teenage years, a daily visual reminder of a dream I was manifesting.
Years later, I would learn that the breed was called a Chinese Shar-Pei.
Fast Forward
When my husband and I bought our first house, my only requirement was a big fenced backyard, for my dream dog. Within days of closing, I started my search to find my dog.
Three months later, I was flying across the country to meet him.
On the side of a busy Boston road, a woman pulled up in her truck, ready to deliver my pup. In the front seat were two wiggly, 9-week-old wrinkle balls. And one of them was mine.
The moment I scooped him into my arms, it was as if 20+ years of longing collapsed into one profound, joy-filled heartbeat. It was the first time I had ever touched a Shar-Pei. One of my deepest dreams, come true.
Anyone who has longed deeply for something — a child, love, a calling — you know this feeling. A soul-level ache that seeks its answer.
For the next 10 years, I poured my love into my boy. He was goofy, sweet and full of quirks. Twice a day after meals he had a ritual of “un-making” the bed, balling up the blankets underneath him before humping them with wild determination. He stretched out his back legs like a frog, curled his noodle tail and looked back at us with a half-growl that was more play than menace.
We called him our “Sexy Little Man.” Because he was.
But he also faced health condition after health condition. Through his care, I became a better person: more patient, learning to surrender control, forgiveness. Whenever we raised our voices, we could see it caused anxiety in our dogs, and it inspired my husband and I to speak more kindly.
Dear World: The Moment That Brought It All Back
At the recent National Speakers Association Influence conference, we were guided through a group exercise that invited us to connect with a deeper story, a memory that truly mattered. We were asked to reflect on an experience so meaningful we’d want to “tattoo” it on our body, with marker.
The experience became emotional for me, with words and memories of Titus — my Sexy Little Man.
At the time it had been almost 2 years to the day since his passing. Yet he was right there with me, feeling him so deeply in my heart. I was overcome with emotions. We were paired with partners for the activity and I could barely even speak. Through tear-soaked eyes, barely audible, I asked her, “please share your story with me, I just want to listen.”
We were then invited to go line up and have a striking photo taken, to capture our messages, our emotion, this moment.
Some people chose to write on their arms, wrists, even faces.
Me, feeling too raw, I chose to head to my room and have space alone. The next day when I was feeling more composed, I was grateful to hear that they were offering the photo sessions for the 2nd day. And even though I could still barely hold it together, I got in line to participate in the “Dear World” project.
I took the marker and chose to write as close to my heart as possible (because that’s where Titus lives), and wrote “SEXY LITTLE MAN.”
Within moments of writing it, as I waited in line, other participants approached me…
“Ooooh, Sexy Little Man?! Tell me about that!”
I’m not sure what they were expecting (my mind giggles imagining that they were ready for a wild escapade or rendezvous story). But instead, with a huge smile, flooded with tears, I told them about one of the deepest loves of my life, baring a part of my soul to them, and I listened thoughtfully as they bared a part of theirs to me.
People sharing stories about how at one time they were told they “weren’t enough.”
People who made the choice to live, after coming close to death.
So many deep personal stories and triumphs, captured in a word, inked on skin.
The Love That Became Grief
Titus was my heart. The lessons learned through him will forever stay deeply embedded in my being.
And he had a huge heart, literally — an enlarged heart and heart disease — that he survived long past the time that the vet thought he would… which I fully believe is because of the love we shared. And today, his spirit lives on so much stronger than his physical body ever could.
On July 31, 2023, unexpectedly, he passed quickly in my arms, a suspected heart attack. It happened in a flash. He jumped up, and that big heart, it stopped. But the love he gave and the depth I would continue to feel, ohhh, that was just beginning…
That was the day that love transformed into something new: grief.
A journey that no person wants to walk, but that at some point, we all do.
Leadership, Grief, and Becoming More Human
When it comes to leadership, I’m not sure that I can draw a straight line to how navigating grief makes us better leaders, but I believe it certainly makes us more human. More tender. More attuned to the invisible battles others are carrying. And that makes one a better leader.
And when leadership grows from that place? That’s when it becomes more impactful. More effective. More whole.
The very same is true for our personal dreams. Like that dream that lived on a poster all those years…
They’re never really about what we’ll get — they’re about who we become.
My wrinkly, goofy boy taught me more about patience, compassion and letting go than any leadership book ever could.
Because of him, I’ve become someone who leads less from control, and more from love.
True leadership begins in the heart.
That’s what I learned from my Sexy Little Man. 💜
Thank you Dear World , National Speakers Association and Robert X Fogarty for the beautiful experience & images.
0 Comments