These are my dogs, Jack and Sawyer (yes, just like in “Lost”). They are the loves of my life (but don’t tell my husband…Steve is holding out hope that it’s him). They are rescue dogs, meaning a little damaged, a little neurotic, and 110% devoted.
But to get to my point. If I ever do, in fact, grow up, I want to be just like them. Because dogs get it right.
Jack and Sawyer have no aspirations. They are utterly and completely satisfied with precisely where they are (unless they hear the leash jiggle…then they are utterly and completely satisfied if they are going for a walk).
Jack and Sawyer have zero ego. They don’t get embarrassed that they’ve put on a few extra pounds, shed incessantly or occasionally lick their behinds. They don’t get their feelings hurt when I tell them they have bad breath or that they need a bath.
Jack and Sawyer don’t strive for success. They don’t compare themselves to other dogs and wonder if they are living up to their full canine potential. They don’t run three miles with me only to think to themselves, “we’ll run five next week, for sure.”
Jack and Sawyer live for today. Because dogs have no sense of time. But also because they don’t plan for tomorrow. They don’t let today pass them by because they think tomorrow might be better because I promised to take them in the car. No, they are going sprawl out on the floor like it’s spa day and they have the VIP package. To hell with tomorrow.
Jack and Sawyer find joy in the little things. That patch of sunshine on the deck. The sound of me coming through the door after work. A doorbell ringing in a TV show making them feel justified in barking as if a herd of cats and mailmen is trying to break in through the front door. The fact that, while typing this, I’m rubbing Jack’s belly with my foot, making him sigh contentedly.
Jack and Sawyer forgive. When Steve yells at them for getting into the cat’s litter box for an afternoon snack, or if I get annoyed because they tried to cuddle when I was leaving for court in a black suit, they let it go. Sure, it could be because they have a short attention span, but I choose to believe it’s because they just don’t have it in them to stay mad.
Although Sawyer does a decent job of holding a grudge after a bath. Obviously Jack does not.
So I’m going to not think about whether or not an agent will call me tomorrow…or that stupid ruling the judge made yesterday. I’m not going to wait to be happy till I get published, or make more money or lose 10 pounds. I’m going to enjoy the wine in my glass, the way Jack and Sawyer wag their tails whenever I smile at them, the way Steve winks at me when he catches me looking at him.
Hell with tomorrow.