I’m totally a bitch.

If I’ve learned one thing from the Dog Whisperer, it’s that calm, submissive dogs get that way because they have plenty of exercise. So, I walk Kona.

She sniffs at dirt, runs toward bushes, is gaga for wood posts and tries to lick cigarettes. But most annoyingly — and in conflict with my idea of a casual stroll with a puppy — she tries to chew on her leash as we walk.

No matter at what rate we’re going, she’ll flip her head around — I half expect to see green spew coming from her mouth in an Exorcism fashion — until she has grasped the leash between her teeth. Then she’ll prance onward, like she’s guiding the way, and me. With a Jaws of Life grip on that leash.

How annoying, that female dog. While scoffing at her, and yelling her name in different intonations to see which one she would respond to, I realized that I’m just like her. I try to take control of all of the little issues and scenarios in life. If I really believe that God is good and sovereign, I wouldn’t try to take that leash into my mouth, so to speak. Because it’s not doing anything anyway.

In this analogy, I’m like Kona, and God’s like me. The idea of that is catastrophic, of course. But it’s true that I look a fool when I try to take control; I’m utterly dependent on someone (God) to take care of me; and I’m easily distracted, pleased and riled up. I’ll accept the label of female dog in this analogy.

And I’ll thank God that he doesn’t yell at me in frustration, let me pretend to have control out of resignation, or routinely feed me Bac’n Bites as a form of persuasion.