Since my Mom is on vacation in California, she asked me to fill in this month so she won’t miss her deadline. As usual, she was rushing around like a terrier with a burr in its tail getting ready to go, lobbing things into her luggage, talking to herself and tripping over the cats. I took a head count of those feline fuss-budgets and came up one short so I think she stashed one in her suitcase but why should I worry? That’s her job. The woman stresses about everything, from answering machines that squawk and scream to zits that bloom for Intergroom. My worry list is much shorter:
First, I’d tell her to relax. Spend some time every day running and playing in the yard. I’d shake her by the neck and order her to roll in the grass! Look at the clouds! Dig up some neat rocks! Chase some birds! Sit in a puddle! She would be a whole new woman. I’d make her sit in the back seat and let me do the driving. Just once, I’d like to see her stick her head out the window and let the wind ruin her ‘do! Even if she got a bug or two in her teeth, she’d be in heaven! When she sees a fine specimen of her own species, I could show her how to make an instant impression. Run over and jump on him! Give him a big wet smackeroo! One of these days I’m going to chew up her copy of “The Rules” and teach her to wag her whole body like I do when I spot a handsome dog within sniffing distance. She should also forget that diet of bunny food she’s been eating and start bingeing on burgers. Take it from me - there’s nothing like juicy red meat to make you feel like a healthy animal. Lamb chops, T-bone steaks, barbecued ribs - grab ‘em like I do, Mom, and go for the gusto! And here’s another hint: when the going gets tough, dig a hole in the cool soft earth and lay down in it, preferably under a shady tree. I’m a firm believer in the positive power of napping. On a hot summer day, breathing is all the exercise you need.
Lose the guilt. Even if you bust the screen door, break the Chinese vase and chew on the table leg occasionally, don’t carry it with you. Let it go. Of course, hanging your head in shame and looking heartbroken works wonders, but a little goes a long way. Try kissing up to everyone you’ve offended. Bonding with your pack is cool because having friends is one of the biggest joys in life. Speaking of friends, practice being one. When you see bummed-out buddies, go sit close by and rest your head on their shoulder. Nuzzling is nice. Listen to their tale of woe and practice giving them the puppy eyes. Trust me - you won’t need to say a word. And last but not least, be yourself, Mom. We were not all meant for the Westminster. Quit going to boring social soirees and stay home with me. You hate wearing high heels and drinking tea from those little cups suitable for hamsters anyway. You loathe making small talk. Admit it, Mom - that multi-colored monstrosity on your host’s wall is not art. It reminds you of what happened the last time you gave me Chinese food leftovers. Put on your old jeans and take off your shoes. If you look like a dog, act like a dog and smell like a dog, chances are you are one, so accept it. After all, caring for us canines pays your bills and even sent you to California. You’re driving down the freeway in that nifty convertible you rented, not running behind it, right?
I’m no therapist, Mom, but here’s my advice. Leading a dog’s life might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Just go easy on my cookies.