Being the Person my Dogs Think I am

Chloe and Molly after a good game of "gotcha" in the office

 

Here we are in 2013. I love the meme that says by this time, peo­ple in the 1950s and 60s thought we would all have fly­ing cars, but all we have is blan­kets with sleeves!

The one thing that never changes is our obses­sion with res­o­lu­tions. Many of us mark each New Year with the res­o­lu­tion to be health­ier, to safe guard our finances bet­ter, pay off credit card debt…things we should be think­ing about through­out the year anyway.

Still, the New Year gives us an oppor­tu­nity to wipe the slate clean and start over.

I typ­i­cally don’t make res­o­lu­tions; I have goals for myself that I revisit sev­eral times a year. This year, I had to write a cou­ple of res­o­lu­tion arti­cles for my work.

One of them had to do with mak­ing res­o­lu­tions for our pets. One of the things I started doing a few weeks ago was to quit try­ing to work through my dog’s morn­ing play time, which can get quite loud and distracting.

A few weeks back, instead of putting men­tal earplugs in, I stopped my typ­ing when the howl­ing, growl­ing and bark­ing started. I got up, went over to the play area, picked up a toy and joined in the fun.

Afterward, instead of frus­trated by the ruckus, I felt like I had a fun break. I was more relaxed and was ready to get back at my own work when the dogs were ready to set­tle in for a nap.

Sometimes, we just have to be reminded to have a lit­tle fun.

Last week, I came across an excel­lent blog post by a writ­ing col­league, Jen Singer, Life Lessons from the Newtown Obituaries. The post points out that adults are typ­i­cally remem­bered in their obit­u­ar­ies by their accom­plish­ments, “She vol­un­teered for the Springfield Animal Shelter.”

Children’s obit­u­ar­ies tell us about who they were. “Emilie could always be found with her mark­ers, col­ored pens and paper, because as she put it, ‘I have so many ideas of things to draw and it is hard to remem­ber them all.”

On the same day a “Pay it Forward” meme was going around Facebook encour­ag­ing peo­ple to do ran­dom acts of kind­ness by send­ing unex­pected gifts to 5 friends some­time this year, my hus­band came home and told me about a friend who had attended a wake the night before.

At the “wake,” which was set up as a party, friends were encour­aged to gather, drink and eat a buf­fet din­ner, as the invi­ta­tion put it, “All on the Dead Guy.” My hus­band said, “That’s how he wanted to be remem­bered, the one who threw the last party.”

I’m glad my dogs reminded me once again sev­eral weeks ago to be the per­son whose obit­u­ary might read, “was always up for a good game of fetch with her dogs, even if it meant putting off a dead­line for a cou­ple of hours.”

I par­tic­i­pated in the Pay it Forward game on Facebook. I’ve resolved to send at least 5 of my friends a ran­dom gift or card some­time this year. I want to pay for someone’s cof­fee who is behind me in line, thank a vet­eran for his/her ser­vice and maybe drop work a lit­tle more often to do some­thing I’ve never tried.

My only real res­o­lu­tion this year is to, in Jen’s words, “live so that your obit­u­ary reads less like a résumé and more like a trib­ute to some­one who will be dearly missed,” in other words, to be the per­son my dogs think I am.

What is your main resolution?   

 

16 Responses to “Being the Person my Dogs Think I am”

  1. Alisa Bowman says:

    This was good for me to read today. I got mad at one of my dogs today because she kept whin­ing to go out while I was try­ing to write. I guess it was dis­placed anger–I was really mad at the hus­band for not let­ting her out when she obvi­ously needed to go. But I took it out on her, and I feel ter­ri­ble about it. I am try­ing to dis­con­nect a lot more. It's a great goal.

  2. Elaine says:

    To make every moment count.

    I think your point about obit­u­ar­ies is absolutely right. Those achieve­ments are nice and worth work­ing for if you're doing some­thing you love but it's the per­son you are and the way you affect other people's lives that is your true legacy. My hus­band died sud­denly in September. He was very well known and respected and he had accom­plished a lot but what hun­dreds of peo­ple men­tioned to me at his wake was how much he loved his family,his incred­i­ble sense of humor and how will­ing he was to give a hand up to some­one else and help in any way he could. People may applaud accom­plish­ments but what they remem­ber is the personal.

    • Kerri says:

      I'm so sorry for your loss, Elaine, but you are right. My dad had a lot of friends he worked with on the rail­road. I don't remem­ber a lot about the days after his death so long ago, but what I remem­ber is the peo­ple com­ing to the house and the absolutely packed crowd at the funeral home. It was lit­er­ally stand­ing room only. My brother had a lot of issues with PTSD and alco­holism, mak­ing it hard for him to stay in one place long, but the thing that stands out from his memo­r­ial ser­vice is some­one com­ing up to me who hadn't seen my brother in 30 years and telling me after all of that time he still remem­bered what a spe­cial per­son he was. A nurse who had seen my brother at the VA also told me that of all the patients she sees weekly, he stood out to her because of his wit and good per­son­al­ity. Those are the kinds of things I think we should all strive to have peo­ple say about us after we're gone.

  3. merr says:

    Dogs truly bring us into "real-time" — don't they? It sounds like you did a lov­ing thing for both you and them!

  4. I pre­fer to change the phrase from "the per­son my dogs think I am" to "the per­son my dogs KNOW I am." They know us bet­ter than any­one, and they know what we NEED, includ­ing a lit­tle playtime.

  5. Heather L. says:

    This is a super good idea. Last night at yoga, our instruc­tor talked about January being the month where we hear "you're not good enough" from all sides. You're not skinny enough, you're not rich enough, you're not.…. you fill in the blank. And by February you say, "Whatever.I guess I'm not good enough."

    I did not par­tic­i­pate in that spe­cific "pay it for­ward" Facebook post but plan to do it in other ways. Thank you for the reminder.

    • Kerri says:

      January is such a depress­ing month for so many rea­sons. I think some­one who is depressed already might take a defeat­est atti­tude, surely, by February. I've always kind of looked at the New Year and January as my time to hit "replay" and start all over. I guess while I don't do for­mal res­o­lu­tions, it is when I make a busi­ness plan and buy any self help books I may have been look­ing at.

  6. Alexandra says:

    This is a great post. My daugh­ter had seri­ous health prob­lems last year. It made her decide to live each day as fully as pos­si­ble, which isn't really related to res­o­lu­tions, but does fit in with your idea of liv­ing dif­fer­ently and get­ting more out of it, a whole other way of approach­ing life.

    • Kerri says:

      Serious health issues always make us re-evaluate our lives, I think. I can remem­ber how lov­ing my mom and dad were right after he had a seri­ous heart attack, the first time I ever saw them walk and hold hands. I had a seri­ous stom­ach issue a few years back and I can remem­ber appre­ci­at­ing so fully how healthy and strong I felt after I recov­ered from surgery. I think for some peo­ple, though, it makes them think there is some­thing they're miss­ing and they then leave their reg­u­lar lives and engage in risky, unpre­dictable behav­ior. I'm glad your daugh­ter took the pos­i­tive approach, Alexandra. Hazzah!

  7. Nanci says:

    LOVE LOVE LOVE! Have reposted to my FB page!!!

  8. Sheryl says:

    I stopped mak­ing res­o­lu­tions when I started mak­ing the same ones each year. But I absolutely love what you wrote in this post. That's enough to remind me how to live life each day. Thank you.