I really screwed up this Blog-A-Day thing last week. Well, back on the horse I go.
Today's (last week's) topic is: the best part of your day.
Today's (last week's) topic is: the best part of your day.
The best part of my day is simple, really, and anyone who has a dog will agree. The best part of my day is going home and opening the front door to see my doggy wagging her tail. It's rare that Molly isn't waiting for me at the door. If she's in the bedroom, she knows the sound of our car being parked in the carport below. If she's near the front door, she knows the jingle of our keys. And, in the rare instance that she's sleeping too deeply, I simply call out to my welcoming committee and she emerges from the bedroom, stretching and wagging her tail.
My dog has taught me a tremendous deal about the simple things in life. I bought her fancy dog toys her first Christmas. She prefers the $5 item from the clearance rack. We bought her a dog bed (she has multiple beds in fact), and she rescued an Ikea pillow on its way to the trash to use as her kitchen pillow. Her favorite treat's ingredient list consists of one item: dehydrated chicken breast. Dogs are a simple animal that live by the Moulin Rouge philosophy: all they want is to love and be loved in return.
Going home to Molly is the best part of my day. I watch the clock at work not in anticipation of giving my brain a rest, but rather in anticipation of racing home to my (8 year old) puppy who will kiss me with her stinky breath, chase her bought-on-clearance-chicken toy (now sans stuffing), and sit on the couch to watch Oprah with me. Dogs are the keepers of the schedule. I can't just go out after work without going home to take care of her first. Molly knows I am coming home based upon her internal clock. So long as I stick to the schedule, she will be waiting for me at that front door. Dogs are a commitment.
That said, Molly is the one constant in our lives. She is the glue that holds us together and is a source of unconditional love. When we adopted Molly, we didn't realize that she would teach us a lesson about the vows that we had said three months earlier. That we learned what unconditional love really means from our dog is no exaggeration. There is not a mean, vengeful or grudge-holding bone in her body. Her biggest faults are those bad breath kisses and squeezing in between us on the couch. And, OK, she's a food thief. But regardless of what she steals off of our plates, Molly always keeps up her end of the commitment, and as an imperfect human, it can be difficult to feel worthy of how much loves she gives to us, her family. That our dog's biggest faults are love-based demonstrates the perfect character and nature of dogs. I believe a great majority of dogs are born having already attained enlightenment.
For proof, just spell "dog" backwards.
