We’re taking full advantage of mom’s last night away and making complete nuisances of ourselves; first me, then Mia, then Max, taking turns standing on dad until he uses The Voice, then we rotate. This is how we guarantee that he never gets anything done, for which we will accept absolutely zero blame for the condition of the Casa when mom returns to the carnage.
A while back, we encountered a homeless man and his dog at the local dollar store. I thought back then, “why do we have to label every one?” Wherever the man was at on his particular journey, it was obvious to me that the dog didn’t consider himself homeless; to the contrary, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He had the full time attention of his master, and it was obvious the feeling was reciprocated by his human, so why should I judge?
Whether on two wheels or four, we at the Casa live to travel, and we love to play music, and the two seem to go well together. Like the seemingly empty miles between the special occurences of a journey, the spaces between the musical notes of a song are sometimes more important than the notes themselves.
Tonight we encountered the Dollar General duo again, and rather than feel pity as I might have before, it made me reflect on my own condition when dad found me in the crate; I’m the same dog as I was back then, just mentally and physically at a different stage of my journey. Like the man and his dog, where I’m at now doesn’t necessarily define where I’m going, but what’s important is that I keep going; not because I have a particular destination, but because you and I do have a particular mission.
Like you, I wasn’t put on this earth to perform some soul-sucking mundane task; sure, sometimes we do what we have to do in order to keep the lights on, but what we do does not always define who we are.
It would be easy to put myself back into another crate , this time one of my own construction, that of a goofy, carefree, lackadaisical dog; although this description does fit me, it doesnt define who I now am. It’s what we do for others less fortunate than ourselves that defines who we are, and everyone, even those that appear to have it all, are less fortunate in some way.
Switching gears: the pups are showing remarkable improvement; Lucy’s ringworms are already drying up, and Ricky is filling out as well. I can’t wait to see what wonders mom will work when she leaps into action upon her return. I’m ready for them to be released from quarantine,as Mia and Max are growing weary of my rambunctious ways and I think that new additions will be worthy adversaries.
At least until they find their new homes, then no doubt dad will find another lost cause to bring home, and the cycle continues to repeat itself; it’s always a party at the Casa del Whackos!
In honor of mom’s return, don’t you think you should greet her in the attire from your recent photo gig modeling the tank top?
He might want her to stay around long enough to at least meet the newcomers in person before running, blinded and stumbling, down the road to get away from the horror scene!