It was my day to be at work early yesterday. My business partner and I alternate schedules so that one of us is at our dog care business from open to close.That means getting up, getting myself showered and ready, caring for our small colony of dogs (I know, define “small”), and making the 30 minute drive into Tulsa.
All of this needs to be accomplished in time to allow me to arrive at Pooches, by around 7:00ish am. Oh, and you need to toss five minutes in that routine for a balanced breakfast. It IS the most important meal of the day (I say that about all of the meals).
So, while I do have my morning routine down to a semi fine art, I still tend to rush, rush, rush because I also tend to hit snooze, snooze, snooze when the morning alarm sounds. I have no problem getting up at 6:00 a.m. Any time that starts with the number five, however, is painful for me.
Yesterday morning it was off to the races once again. I can feed 20 dogs in five minutes—it’s a mad skill that involves very cooperative dogs. Breakfast is also their most important meal of the day.
I got through the whole routine and hit the road, even remembering to grab the bag ‘o trash by the door to take it up to the trash can by the road. I was ON. Unstoppable. The day was off to a great start.
As I hopped out of Duke (that’s my Jeep) to remove the bag ‘o trash from his roof (and yes, I often forget to do that and drive alllllllllll the way to Tulsa with my trash along for the ride), I noticed a truck pulled to the side of the road just over a quarter of a mile north of my driveway. I didn’t really think much of it…just noticed it.
Trash safely deposited, I was back in Duke and ready to go. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Stay on schedule. Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go…etc.
The truck I had seen took off in a cloud of gravel dust. Hmmm. In a bit of a hurry, there. Perhaps they dumped some trash. That happens on our road.
As I reached the spot where the truck had been, I glanced over into the tall grass lining the road. Two sets of terrified eyes met mine. STOP!
There, hiding in the weeds, were two young dogs with very big ears and very round, stress-filled eyes. I kissed my morning schedule goodbye and stepped out of the Jeep to meet my new best friends.
Now. It’s easy to get mad at whoever dumped the dogs RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE. I get mad too. But I have learned that getting mad isn’t very productive. It doesn’t change the fact that the dogs need help. It won’t bring the guy back to apologize and take responsibility for his puppies. It won’t change the fact that dogs get dumped here…and everywhere… all the damn time. “Mad” is an emotion I have to chase away very quickly.
Instead of mad, I choose to focus on gratitude. I’m grateful that I am often at the right place at the right time. I’m grateful I have a life that allows my somewhat well-orchestrated morning schedule to blow up in the interest of saving two cute dogs with comical ears. I’m grateful that I have a wonderful staff on the job at Pooches…they really don’t need me. I’m grateful that I have a relationship with veterinarians who don’t bat an eye when I show up unannounced to deposit two skinny, tick-covered young dogs in their hospital for a check-up and shots. I’m incredibly grateful that I have a spousal equivalent (sounds more grownup than boyfriend) who can’t wait to meet the new foster dogs instead of complaining that I am bringing two more home. And, in the vein of positive thinking, I’m grateful for the future people who will give these cute girls wonderful homes.
So the morning schedule blew up. I didn’t get to work until after 8:00. But no worries, I can rush another day. This screeching stop?
Totally. Worth. It.
Anyone want a cute puppy…or two?