Have you ever doubted yourself based on someone else’s unsolicited advice? 

When I moved to Minneapolis, I considered getting a small dog for the first time in my life.  I’d always lived with cats.  But my heart—and even my husband—was open to the possibility. 

Since I’m a walker, I began interacting right away with neighborhood dogs out with their owners.  I got excited for the prospect of a new companion.

Then I happened to mention to a longtime acquaintance that I might get a small dog.  “Oh no!” he exclaimed, inches from my face. “You don’t want a dog in Minnesota!  You have to take them out in the freezing cold.  Minnesota is not a place to have a dog.  Believe me—get cats!” 

Wow.  The thing is, I thought I did want a dog.  Yet somehow his words stuck to me like Velcro.  I expect he was trying to be helpful, to spare me a negative experience. I responded differently. 

It actually took six months for me to see the ludicrousness of such a remark.  How could anyone know whether or not I want a dog? 

Now I had to address the anger and blame I felt, and forgive myself for allowing this strongly expressed opinion to influence me for so long.  But as I struggled to release this “helpful” advice, I rediscovered the truth.  

Yes, it’s a big step.  Yes, I’ll need to find a dog sitter on occasion.  Yes, it’s more responsibility—and yes, I’ll have to go out in the cold. 

But what about the love I’m missing?

Today I’m watching the blizzard outside, playing with the image of a small dog next to me on the couch.  I look out the window and think, I would go out there with my little friend.  I don’t mind the cold so much; I grew up in a similar climate.  I’m the rare one who prefers below zero temperatures to those in the 20’s—that clean, clear deep-cold air, the silence of frigid nights filled with stars.   

As long as I have a fireplace to return to, I’m good.

Many gifts appeared to outfit me for cold, including boots on sale proven effective to -25 degrees, handmade mittens from my surrogate mom, a second-hand Italian designer down coat (midi-length), and a fur hat brought back to me all the way from Russia.  I have silks and scarves, and I even got Christmas gifts of alpaca socks and a headscarf that covers my face. 

The comment tested my heart’s resolve.  As I re-explore canine companionship, I’m more aware of my commitment and more grateful for all gifts I’ve been given to prepare me for a new, exciting opportunity.

I may also be wiser the next time someone offers an opinion so emphatically.  I may keep silent about personal matters.  Or maybe I’ll catch myself giving unrequested advice—telling someone else what their reality is—and stop myself in time.