I have a memory similar to today’s shit story (the memory was recorded here). Both involve dogs and white carpeting and the ever popular ‘rhea. Today we awoke to a blizzard. Yes, snow outside. And yes, shit everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean Abigail’s bedding, the floor in her room, the hallways, the living room, the pillow on the floor beside my bed. If a murder had occurred, there’d be plenty of DNA on the scene.
We’re dog-sitting my father’s dog, a very sweet and cuddly Cockapoo. The irony of the breed’s name is not lost on me. “Poo” as it turns out does not only mean “Poodle.” My father took Maggie to the vet and was told she needed to gain weight. My father discovered a new dog food that she loves. “Aren’t you supposed to introduce new foods to a dog slowly?” I asked when my father reviewed her feeding schedule. “No, she’s fine,” he said. “She loves this new dog food. Just give her half of the new mixed with the older, familiar food.” And we’re introducing her to a new food right before you leave her here, why???
Long story, shit… ‘rhea hit the fan. Phil spent the day doing laundry, washing the dog, scrubbing carpets, and swearing up a shit storm. I just now blow dried the dog’s ass and brushed her hair. It’s not her fault. I get it. But man, what a way to spend your snow day. Now, here’s my question: what are we to learn from moments like these?
They say everything happens for a reason, that there’s a lesson or a teacher in our events. That we can use the moment to learn patience, say, or to connect with someone. What’s the “why” behind the troubled behind?