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Leadership when it hurts
I walked into my kitchen to find my 12-year-old dog lying in her own waste.
She trembled violently, unable to get up. I immediately called a friend to get
a recommendation for a veterinarian. After suggesting a vet, he kindly offered
to take my dog for me, but I insisted on taking her myself.
The vet didn’t offer much hope. After he ran some blood tests and took a
few X-rays, he was unable to produce any conclusive diagnosis. He gave me a
couple of bottles of pills and sent me home to see if my dog would improve.
For the entire week afterward, I fed my dog by painstakingly spooning tiny
bits of canned dog food into a small syringe and then squirting it into my dog’s
mouth. I gave her water in the same manner — one syringe at a time, all the
while talking to her, begging her to get better.
During the ensuing week, her trembling was replaced with a dull lethargy
and her sad eyes communicated the misery of a once playful, active dog now
shackled with an incapacitating affliction.
Toward the end of a week of careful nursing, it was apparent that she
wasn’t going to improve. During those last few days, it seemed to me that when I
looked into her eyes, she was silently asking me, “Do you have the strength to
do what is needed?’ I didn’t know the answer to that question and didn’t want
to find out.
Finally, a decision had to be made. As I loaded her into my car and drove
her to the vet’s office, tears pooled in my eyes and my heart felt as though it
would explode from my chest. I had called the veterinarian beforehand, so when
we arrived, a somber mood pervaded the office.
I carried my dog into the small examination room and laid her on the
table. I asked for a minute alone with her to say good-bye and after everyone
left, I managed to choke out a staccato farewell while I stroked her small head.
The doctor and his assistant came back and in less than a minute it was all
over. My throat felt tight and I couldn’t speak. Tears blurred my vision and I
stumbled out of the office to my car. I somehow managed to find my way to a
home that now looked empty and a bit foreign.
I would have given a lot not to have gone through with it, but it was my
responsibility. Although she was a family pet, she was primarily my dog.
Through the process I learned a little about leadership. It’s dad’s job to
squash the bugs. It’s mom’s job to wipe the sniffles. It’s the leader’s job to
do the unpleasant, thankless tasks that no one else wants to do.
Metaphorically speaking, there will always be the opportunity to let
someone else take your dog to the vet. There will always be the option of
backing out — of not stepping up and doing the necessary thing. But leadership
means being the one. It means taking responsibility no matter how much it
costs you or how bad it hurts.
The only question is: Do you have the strength to do what is needed?
© 2004 Charles Marshall. Charles Marshall is a motivational speaker, motivational author and president of M Power Resources, LLC. Visit his Web site at www.MPowerResources.com or contact him via e-mail at charles@MPowerResources.com.
