Dog Gets Death Row Pardon. That was a title of an article on aol news a few weeks ago. I love dogs. My friend Trish has a new dog named Sinatra. I just met him recently. He likes me…a lot. : )
I clicked on the article and read about the Pit Bull mix that had been ordered to be put to sleep, and how the owner had petitioned that sentence. The article stated the dog would be saved, but it would be sent to a special center for convicted pups. What a strange world we live in. I felt sad for the dog, and extreme sympathy for the owner who loved him and had fought for his life.
I remembered the article when I came under investigation by a group I belong to and had to iron out a snafu. Had I, broken any rules? I won’t bore you with details, and won’t discuss the issue here. Let’s just say, when I recalled that heading, I knew everything would work out in my favor. This old dog was about to be pardoned. And like the dog’s owner who had spent a year defending her beloved pet, I had presented a strong defense. But then I had to sit on my hands and hold the thing tight and not fan any flames. I had to trust in the process. That’s, hard for me to do.
While I waited for a decision, that title, “Dog Gets Death Row Pardon,” kept popping in and out of my thoughts, along with, “Every dog has his day,” and “Who is the dog, here? Am I the dog?” from the movie, When Harry Met Sally. I liked how Sally got to slap Harry and walk away. I didn’t feel like slapping anyone, but maybe one quick punch to the gut. Yeah, that would have been good. I thought about jumping into the car and going to confront someone. But then I got to thinking, “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon day sun.” Take a nap.
It was a bright sunny day, in the Southern California desert communities. But isn’t it always? And it was somewhere around noon. I’m not British, but I do have a Brit background. I figured it was better to stay inside. With bated breath I waited for an answer. I didn’t know if the answer would arrive by phone or by email. I hovered in the office, and monitored each device. One minute I’d get angry and almost frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, the next moment whimpering with my tail tucked between my legs. Then all kinds of thoughts would rush through me again. I remember thinking of bated breath and then recalled how someone said the inside of a dogs mouth has less bacteria than a human’s mouth. Well, I’ll be doggone. That sure is interesting.
And now you know what it’s like inside my head when I’m under stress. Ha ha. Ah, who am I kidding, my head is always full of thoughts like that, and I really love how they cascade, spilling drop by drop into that giant thought pool. By the way, the decision was good. I’d worried myself for no reason, but on the plus side I did get to write this blog.
Memo to self: need to get out more, or maybe get another dog. How do you handle stressful situations, especially when it’s your integrity that’s on the line? Do you fight back, or slink away?