Just as I was about to nap, my muse gave me a swift kick with an idea for a column. Actually, I already had one, and if I do say so myself, it was a doozy. Hence this piece on narcissism.
The original idea was a rant on a utility company, and let's face facts: almost all of us could contribute a colorful soundbite on that subject, but that's not going to happen. These folks have bazillions of our hard-earned dollars, they want many more, and they have a yacht-load of lawyers, so let's just talk about them behind their backs. That's what the local coffeeshop is for.
On the way to the computer, I passed the ever-dwindling windowsill at the top of the stairs. There is less of it, thanks to Sarah the pup, and since she tore off half of the curtain and all of the rod last Saturday, there is only a shade there now.
Back to the subject, though, which is actually something we are all guilty of at one time or another. And there are some who practice this trait pretty much all the time. To put narcissism in the simplest of terms, one could say it's about oneself.
For example, say that friends have taken a trip out of state and you find yourself waiting for a phone call from them. Did they arrive safely? Are they having fun? When are they coming back?
Alas, the phone never rings. Never. You stew and fume and talk about how inconsiderate these friends are; after all, their lack of phone courtesy is ruining your life. Ah, there it is. It really is about you and how their behavior is making you feel.
Were you really concerned with their safe arrival and whether they were having fun? Maybe at first, but as the days crawled by, anger and frustration replaced whatever worries you had and by the time your friends get home, you're ready to punch them in the head. That is, if you're still speaking to them.
It doesn't take a trip away from home to set off this attitude. Haven't you run into someone from Kewanee you haven't seen for months or even years? You live in the same small town and it takes a chance meeting at a store or, more likely, our Hog Days festival before you see one another. Each of you are thinking the same thing: why haven't they called me? Maybe you really are different, though. Maybe you are simply happy to see a friend you haven't laid eyes on in a long while.
There is another example of this behavior that happens all too frequently. I see it as two people who both suffer from the same affliction in different ways at the same time. Stay with me here.
We get busy beyond belief with our job, family, a health issue or two, and a sudden emergency. The days go by and we haven't contacted close friends or even some family members because time got away and though we thought about calling or stopping by, we just couldn't fit it in.
Everyone needed us at once, and the hours turned into days and those turned into weeks.
The neglected person has gone from worried to hurt to angry. You have run yourself ragged, and when it dawns that you've neglected a loved one, your first feeling is guilt. Then you rationalize that so-and-so should understand; after all, you're close friends. Now you've got a good excuse and a sound reason for your behavior, so you shove the person from your mind and carry on with multi-tasking and feeling like no one understands what a busy person you must be.
What a bunch of hooey. One is hurt because they've been ignored. The other is hurt because they're overworked and no one understands them. Each is focusing on how someone else is making them feel when they both should care less about themselves.
When we can get to the point where we put another's welfare above our own, and leave it there, we'll find it doesn't matter whether we get that phone call, visit or e-mail. The only thing that will matter is how well we treat others, not how well they treat us.
It's kind of neat how our puppy knows that it's best to make those around her feel loved and wanted, even if now and then she falls from grace and eats things she shouldn't. Even a dog knows it's not all about them, it's about unconditional love.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Only time will tell with a decision made with the heart
By Margi Washburn
What were we thinkng?
It's understandable when a child reacts emotionally to an upset in their world, but as adults we're supposed to know better. Sometimes we don't.
I think we've always had a dog. Or a dog, a cat and a guinea pig. We may have had fish at some point. Once we even had four dogs and four cats and I've no idea how we managed but nothing comes to mind that makes me think it was anything other than ordinary.
We're both older now, yet none the wiser. That would explain the yellow lab-mix by the name of Sarah who now lives with us and who has turned our world upside down.
This four-legged menace has even caused a strain in friendships, mostly because of where she came from. I've no clue as to why that should matter, but to some folks it does.
What concerns me is that I didn't do my homework. There have been times when I've done so much investigating into an issue that it drove me and those closest to me completely bonkers. When it came to finding a pooch to fill the hole in our hearts, hubby and I threw our collective common sense to the wind and operated purely on emotions. That was beyond stupid.
To make matters worse, I brought home an armful of books from the library and read all I could about labs. They're supposed to love water; Sarah yelps when the slightest mist touches her fur.
If we'd known that labs have a bottomless pit of energy, we would have turned and walked swiftly away from that woeful stare at the shelter. She seemed so calm, and she never opened her mouth to bark. What a performance she gave that day.
Sarah outgrew a borrowed kennel so she had to have a new one. She eats well, and she loves Kong toys, an odd-shaped piece of red rubber that I stuff with treats and peanut butter. I'd been told to freeze this concoction because it would take longer to get the goodies out of it. Sarah finishes it off in less than ten minutes, then brings it to me. She drops the slimy, hairy thing in my lap, sits back and waits for me to refill it.
Hubby and I had a quiet home for a few days between dogs, but that's gone now. Sarah sounds like a herd of cattle as she romps around with squeaky toys in her mouth. We know that our home, big as it is, just isn't big enough. We've opened doors so she can run up and down the stairs to burn off some energy, but she still wants to go for a walk about every half hour or so. That kind of behavior can put a serious kink into one's life, and it has.
There are no more naps in the recliner. Even if the dog is taking a rare snooze, the moment you slip into la-la land, she will suddenly appear at your side. Before you can fully awaken, she'll give you a nose-butt until you sit up straight and await further instructions. To top things off in the oddest way, Sarah has developed a wildly hilarious bark and she especially lets loose with one whenever we say the word “Sandy.”
We've been watching the Dog Whisperer, a profoundly misnamed show if there ever was one. Cesar Milan has been invaluabe, helping the both of us reclaim our title as pack leaders of our home. Sarah walks better on the leash now, though once in a while she wrenches my arm but good when she sees a bug, squirrel, rabbit, tractor, garbage bag, bird or fire hydrant.
It's exhausting having a puppy in our lives. She slobbers, requires too much of our time and energy (let's not even talk money here, please), and she's getting bigger by the minute. We have been told that after a year, she'll calm down and be the best dog ever. Then we were told it would be a year and a half. The last prediction was three years, and I think we both nearly cried on the spot.
I know I should have done my research first, and maybe we should have looked into getting an older dog instead of a pup. But the thing is, we went with our hearts and I think that deep down where it really matters, hubby and I are certain that we did the right thing. The three of us will have to live with our decision and hope with every fiber of our beings that the time comes soon when Sarah turns into the best dog we ever had.
What were we thinkng?
It's understandable when a child reacts emotionally to an upset in their world, but as adults we're supposed to know better. Sometimes we don't.
I think we've always had a dog. Or a dog, a cat and a guinea pig. We may have had fish at some point. Once we even had four dogs and four cats and I've no idea how we managed but nothing comes to mind that makes me think it was anything other than ordinary.
We're both older now, yet none the wiser. That would explain the yellow lab-mix by the name of Sarah who now lives with us and who has turned our world upside down.
This four-legged menace has even caused a strain in friendships, mostly because of where she came from. I've no clue as to why that should matter, but to some folks it does.
What concerns me is that I didn't do my homework. There have been times when I've done so much investigating into an issue that it drove me and those closest to me completely bonkers. When it came to finding a pooch to fill the hole in our hearts, hubby and I threw our collective common sense to the wind and operated purely on emotions. That was beyond stupid.
To make matters worse, I brought home an armful of books from the library and read all I could about labs. They're supposed to love water; Sarah yelps when the slightest mist touches her fur.
If we'd known that labs have a bottomless pit of energy, we would have turned and walked swiftly away from that woeful stare at the shelter. She seemed so calm, and she never opened her mouth to bark. What a performance she gave that day.
Sarah outgrew a borrowed kennel so she had to have a new one. She eats well, and she loves Kong toys, an odd-shaped piece of red rubber that I stuff with treats and peanut butter. I'd been told to freeze this concoction because it would take longer to get the goodies out of it. Sarah finishes it off in less than ten minutes, then brings it to me. She drops the slimy, hairy thing in my lap, sits back and waits for me to refill it.
Hubby and I had a quiet home for a few days between dogs, but that's gone now. Sarah sounds like a herd of cattle as she romps around with squeaky toys in her mouth. We know that our home, big as it is, just isn't big enough. We've opened doors so she can run up and down the stairs to burn off some energy, but she still wants to go for a walk about every half hour or so. That kind of behavior can put a serious kink into one's life, and it has.
There are no more naps in the recliner. Even if the dog is taking a rare snooze, the moment you slip into la-la land, she will suddenly appear at your side. Before you can fully awaken, she'll give you a nose-butt until you sit up straight and await further instructions. To top things off in the oddest way, Sarah has developed a wildly hilarious bark and she especially lets loose with one whenever we say the word “Sandy.”
We've been watching the Dog Whisperer, a profoundly misnamed show if there ever was one. Cesar Milan has been invaluabe, helping the both of us reclaim our title as pack leaders of our home. Sarah walks better on the leash now, though once in a while she wrenches my arm but good when she sees a bug, squirrel, rabbit, tractor, garbage bag, bird or fire hydrant.
It's exhausting having a puppy in our lives. She slobbers, requires too much of our time and energy (let's not even talk money here, please), and she's getting bigger by the minute. We have been told that after a year, she'll calm down and be the best dog ever. Then we were told it would be a year and a half. The last prediction was three years, and I think we both nearly cried on the spot.
I know I should have done my research first, and maybe we should have looked into getting an older dog instead of a pup. But the thing is, we went with our hearts and I think that deep down where it really matters, hubby and I are certain that we did the right thing. The three of us will have to live with our decision and hope with every fiber of our beings that the time comes soon when Sarah turns into the best dog we ever had.
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