Sometimes Uncle Joel has a bad day. You know the sort of day I mean, you probably have them too. Nothing goes quite right, then something goes wrong, then something goes worse, and your mood gets darker and darker, and your dogs are picking up on this and aren’t sure what to do about it, and one of them decides the way to defuse the situation is to throw himself in front of you while you’re stomping around being mad at the universe … and all of a sudden your anger has a focus.
Little Bear takes up half the Lair’s floor at the best of times. And he’s such an easy target, and I feel like such a miserable excuse for a human being when that happens. Which, occasionally, it does.
And it’s over things that are so trivial, y’know? I’m washing laundry in the sink which isn’t my favorite thing anyway, and water’s getting everywhere and the stove water’s boiling/not boiling at the wrong times and the wood stove won’t stay burning or is burning too high, and then I’m washing dishes and my BRAND NEW FRENCH PRESS slips out of my hand while it’s soapy and shatters in the sink and I stick myself in the thumb cleaning it up and the phone rings while I’m sopping up blood…
And that’s when I lost it at the dog.
And the phone call was neighbors D&L wondering if I wanted to go to the store with them. And I said no, as politely as I could manage. And then I remembered that I’ve been trying to resuscitate the Jeep’s battery which has been acting wonky, and thought if there was a shot at the store I’d better go check it. So I left the boys in the cabin and walked over to Ian’s where I’d been charging the battery…which was not responding to the Battery Minder at all. So I called D&L back, pulled the battery out of the Jeep and caught a ride to town, because the VERY FIRST THING I wanted to do this morning was buy yet another battery, right? Turned out the news wasn’t completely bad, though, because there was still some warranty active on the old one.
Somehow it’s worse when the dog forgives you so very completely for being such an ass. My ex-wife wouldn’t have talked to me for a week if I’d treated her that way.
Yeah… I still regret all the times I got frustrated because old Rascal wanted so badly to put his big, dumb old head in my lap and I pushed him away because I couldn’t get any work done that way… and he’d just go to his bed and sigh, watching me patiently, hoping for some attention next time… And I wish I had the opportunity to scratch his neck and rumple his fuzzy ears one more time… still makes me cry.
But I’m doing a lot better with Laddie now, remembering Rascal when I get impatient at his frequent requests to go in and out because it is too cold to stay out long. Or when he tracks in mud. I hope I never forget, because I don’t want to live with the regret again someday.
Yeah, we all have those days. And it’s easy to pop off at the dogs or just neglect them because we’re preoccupied (which I do a lot). Try not to beat up on yourself too much.
But you know what’s really funny amid all these very annoying daily hassles? The idea of a scruffy one-legged, eyepatch-wearing hermit having a brand new French press to get upset about breaking.
Sorry, though. That was a beautiful thing.
I got short tempered a few days ago here at home- things build up, and then its just one more thing. I was trying to set lunch on the table, and my dog just HAD to be closest to it. I didn’t snap at my lovely wife, I didn’t snap at Danger (age 15mo), but I came unglued on the dog. Ten minutes later, he put his head on my lap and reminded me that the best thing is to be loved, and nothing is so bad that we can’t still be friends. I’ll be damned if that dog isn’t the only thing that reminds me of my humanity some days. They alwaya love and always forgive.
A FRENCH press??? What’s the matter with American presses? Harumph!
Next thing you know, you are going to get one of those poofy little french dogs, and I will lose all respect.
We have those poofy little french dogs, 2 toy poodles, and I can tell you that they don’t forgive easily. They pout, glare and tell stories of torture and abuse at the drop of a hat.
Maybe we should organize a French Press drive to send Joel a few backups. You all know that prepper statement that two is one and one is none.
We have those poofy little french dogs, 2 toy poodles, and I can tell you that they don’t forgive easily. They pout, glare and tell stories of torture and abuse at the drop of a hat.
Most vengeful creature on the planet. We had some family friends with a miniature poodle named Pierre. Lived (and ruled) for almost 20 years. The men of the family took up wearing high cowboy boots, because when Pierre was offended with you he’d go down to the back door landing where everybody took off their shoes, sniff out your shoes, and then pee in them.
Pierre was impressed by no living thing, and was not deterred by the difference in size.
I don’t think there is a human being over 18 that can claim they never were a dick over a few moments of Life sucking getting to ones’ self. Give yourself a break, that dog a bone and a pat on the head and call it good – we all have our moments.
Yeah,I have those days ,too.Good thing about a dog’s love is it’s unconditional-he still loves you when you’re a dick.
Next time,try yelling FUCK!!! as loud as you can.It helps me,nobody hears,and you don’t have to kick the dogs,they usually run away.
I thought they were called freedom presses these days.