A Dog's Life

The dogs howled when I came home last night. They were anxious and hungry, as is usual at 7pm in the evening. They need me to feed them, to love them, and to merely acknowledge their existence. They jump around my legs, they yip and yelp, they beg for my consideration. And they love me unconditionally. Those of you with pets understand the greeting I get to face daily. These delightful little doggies could not survive without me, without my attention or my care.

And once their bowls are filled and tummies scratched, they relax and drop at my feet ready to just sleep and let go of their day. If only our own days could flow in such a manner, quickly achieving our goals, grateful for that achievement and then letting go of the work and strain of the day and succumbing to the rest we so greatly need and deserve. A dog's life - to be interpreted slightly different than the expected interpretation. A dog gets what he needs and then is able to let go.

Some of us face grueling commutes at the top of our days, some of us merely walk from one room in our home to another, others have to only drive a couple miles or take a train or bus. A busy desk awaits holding unfinished business from the day or week before. Voicemails blink away and emails boldly announce their need to be answered, call backs, follow ups, start-ups, send outs, debriefs, sign offs, offers and endless negotiations...

The day only gets easier, right? Wrong. Someone needs this quote, someone else needs a written professional reference, still others wait for detailed job descriptions while you wait for ancillary materials from your client or hiring manager. I am consistently reminded that if it were easy, anyone would be doing it. And consistency is key.

I rarely leave my office when I say I will. There is always one more email to send (or read), one more resume to review, one more attachment to be downloaded, one more blog to post and one more status to update. A dog's life, right? Funny, how that is what I need to continually aspire to. Wag my tail, have some supper, then crash until the sun also rises..., again.
It's the "letting go" that is difficult, almost painful. There is so much to do and so little time to do it in.

I think I can, I think I can... Usually attributed to making it to the top of the hill? Not this time, there is a bottom of a hill where a quiet station waits. I hope I can, I hope I can...