So my lovely-queen-in-training of a daughter has been at her dad's for what seems like eternity (it’s actually only been about two weeks) and I have been left in charge of her four-legged best friend, Kipper. Kipper-the-ho-dog-little-artichoke-puppy-scrumpkins. I am still trying to get used to being left with my charge and without the lovely-queen-in-training who normally does all the Kipper-the-ho-dog-little-artichoke-puppy-scrumpkins' caretaking. Every morning she shuts the bathroom door, makes sure there is no panty-buffet left out for him, and checks the house for no-no’s if I’m running late and am rushed with oh-my-god-I’ve-got-a-meeting-first-thing-today!
The lovely-queen-in-training has her morning routine of his care down to an art form. I, on the other hand, do not. Never mind that we’ve had him for 8 years and she was only 2 when he came to lay claim to us as his humans or the hours of showing her “nice puppy” or “Miyana, don’t kick the dog cuz I swear if your ruin that dog, I’m going to have YOU put down!”
Adjusting to her being gone is taking a little time and as a parent I have discovered I am not infallible. I have my faults and yes, I do screw up sometimes.
This morning I rushed out the door, but not before taking Kipper-the-ho-dog-little-artichoke-puppy-scrumpkins out to do his business, making sure he had food and water, and there was no panty-buffet for him. I went to work, went throughout my day, and followed by the gym and home to the precious pup.
What I came home to was garbage all over the floor. I had cleaned leftover take-out out of the frig and Kipper-the-ho-dog-little-artichoke-puppy-scrumpkins had found his way into discarded popcorn-chicken. Oh, did I fail to mention that I had also taken the garbage bag out of the pooch-proof garbage can and left it sitting on the kitchen floor bag open?
“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!” and Kipper slinks out from under the end table to puppy-jail under Miyana’s bed. Self-exiled. I had not uttered a single word (ok, a sound, but not a word). I clean up the mess, take a deep breath and attempt to coax him out from under the bed. I messed up. I am the human and it is my responsibility to NOT leave an open garbage bag out. Some may say “WHAT?!?! But he got in the garbage!” Alas, he did but Kipper is doing what Kipper is supposed to do ~ be a dog. He is supposed to sniff stuff out, chew on what smells tasty to him, and be the dog. It’s what dogs do.
Mentally ill individuals aren’t much different. They’re supposed to do stuff that makes me go “Whaaa??” with my jaw hitting the floor and question my own sanity for doing this job. My clients are supposed to make me think for that brief moment, “What in the hell where you thinking?!?” and take it back immediately because the people that I serve do not think like you or me. They believe in logic where I’m the co-anchor on the Today Show and we’re getting married and throwing a couch off of a third floor balcony makes perfect sense.
So today I’m not going to be mad or frustrated with the dog. He was being a dog. And tomorrow when I go back to work I’m not going to get frustrated and remember that the clients I serve are doing what they are supposed to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment