Tag: labradors

Monday – Funday

My husband and I were at a Home Depot over the weekend, and of course, the Halloween decorations were already displayed in full force. The store had a big sign by the building sized skeletons that you could only purchase ONE PER CUSTOMER. How many giant skeletons could you possibly need? And where do you store them the other 11 months out of the year? I like buying things in bulk, but I don’t like buying really bulky things in bulk.

Going into a new season, is always a particularly reflective time for me. Recently, I read an interesting story about Louise Hay, the woman who started Hay House Publishing, known for their spiritual and inspirational books. She refused to repeat sad or depressing stories. If she heard negative news, she never repeated that news to anyone. I thought that would be interesting to try myself, and so I have been more conscious about what I share. It is amazing how my impulse to share salacious, temper-inducing, “juicy”, fearsome, agonizing stories is bigger than I care to admit. I’ve failed this attempt to trim the negativity that I spread, many times already. Certainly, if there is something that can be done for the people involved in a tragedy, or a warning of something dangerous impending is helpful to others, than sharing the information is kind, and sometimes even vital. But to pass on negative news, just for the sake of spreading doom, kind of just turns you into a Debbie Downer. Debbie Downer is a bigger part of my personality than my Pollyanna half likes to admit. But my DD can be put into her place – into her own dark little corner to stew all by herself.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Wingmen

I don’t exaggerate. I just remember big. 

~ Chi Chi Rodriguez

I love this quote. My editor (aka my husband) will read one of my blog posts about something that we both experienced, and he’ll say, “Wow, I didn’t see the story in that, but you did.” And sometimes he’ll try to correct little details to my stories because his memory is different than mine. (And then I’ll get mad, and I’ll insist that my storyteller persona deserves a little creative license) I digress. My overall point is, I do believe that most of us writers, remember a lot of seemingly inconsequential happenings, and we do “remember big.”

The other day, my friend sent to our group chat, a picture of her poor sick baby, all nestled, under warm blankets on the couch. Her baby is now home from college, and immediately came down with some nasty virus going around. Nestled right next to her baby, was my friend’s family’s fur baby, an adorable Yorkie named Skipper, who has been the longtime, perfect family dog, for a family who consists of three beautiful, vivacious daughters. When I texted how cute it was to see Skipper, being right there, comforting one of the beautiful daughters, my friend said that Skipper has always been the family comforter. She then texted a picture of Skipper nestled up, right next to my friend’s father-in-law who had been in hospice care in their home, a few years ago, before he died. “They’re always our wingmen,” I replied. And everyone on the chat agreed. We all love our dogs.

When we visited our son, who attends medical school in a different city, over this past weekend, I noticed a trio of pictures, placed above his computer in his apartment – a place where I imagine that our son spends a great deal of time. The left side picture was one of he and his two brothers, confident and arm-in-arm, on one of our family trips to the great outdoors, the right side picture was of he and his longtime girlfriend, laughing together on the beach, but the middle picture was a giant blow-up of our Labrador retriever’s face. Ralphie, our lab, does have a beautiful, soulful, expressive face. I believe that the picture reminds our son that he has a big, yellow, loyal, goofy, but brilliant wingman, who loves him immensely and unconditionally, and this wingman doesn’t even understand nor give a hoot about medical school. My son’s soulful wingman only cares to be there (even if only in picture form) to be a devoted, supportive form of comfort. How beautiful it is that our furry wingmen feel their own highest form of love and comfort, by just being it.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

The Blame Game

If you ever lose/displace something, I have a full proof way to find the said item. It doesn’t involve retracing your steps, a Tile, St. Anthony, a pendulum or a psychic (although in desperation, I have used the above tactics in different drastic measures throughout the years). The sureproof way to find something that is lost, is to secretly, and righteously, and angrily blame someone else in your head for taking your item. That’s what you do. Name a thief. It never fails, right after you get your ire up as you sit steaming in your pitiful, indignant victim chair, your item shows up in some stupid place that you, yourself obviously and carelessly put the item in. When you discover the lost item, you are filled with embarrassment, and shame (for the blame), and also utter relief and joy all at the same time. It’s a whole sh%tstorm of feelings. As an example, yesterday I couldn’t find a $16 pair of earrings that I had recently purchased. They are not my favorite earrings. There is nothing particularly special or amazing about these earrings, but they are mine, and they were lost and I was pissed. I spent a chunk of time yesterday, going through garbage cans, recycle bins, scouring “my places” where I typically put my jewelry, to no avail. That’s when I remembered my trick. Whom should I blame for coming into my house and taking my $16 pair of earrings while stealthily leaving all other valuables firmly in place? The Fedex guy? A neighbor? The electrician from last year? Our first pet sitters from when we first moved here? And that’s when I remembered the most plausible entity to blame – Ralphie, our Labrador retriever. I noticed him munching on something crunchy the evening before and when I went to explore what he was eating, flipping through his piles of lips, he kept his mouth firmly shut, and so I had given up the quest of trying to see what he had been eating. Aha! Now I knew! What a naughty, guilty dog! Chewing on small metal earrings that weren’t his to devour! Is the diet kibble really that bad?! Just as I was giving Ralphie the evil eye, as I went to grab my eye drops out of the top drawer in my bathroom, I noticed two earrings that had obviously been swept into the drawer, just sitting there in the little dark corner of the drawer, looking up at me, almost with their own little evil eyes, as if to say, “What do you have to say for yourself, lady? How do you feel now?” And then, that strange, somewhat overwhelming mix of happy/bad feelings swept all over me, and I put my earrings on, and I hugged Ralphie and I gave him a treat. (and not the diet variety)

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.