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Epiphany From The Dog Park
Maybe everything isn’t personal
For the last week I have been cranky with a capitol “C.” I’ve attributed my mood disorder to a new herbal concoction my naturopath prescribed. Assigning my bad mood to a few tinctures of brown liquid is convenient, but if I’m honest with myself, I know this mood, and it’s not new. It’s very familiar — I’ve cycled through this emotional state at different times throughout my life.
It’s a combination of cranky and sad, sullen and indignant. It’s like there’s a pair of rotten socks stuck in the ducting of my happiness system. The happiness is there, but it can’t get past the stinky socks. “At least I’m aware of this unpleasantness being a temporary visitor,” I think to myself. “I know it won’t last forever.”
This morning on the way to the dog park I ran into Katherine, one of the dog park regulars. Katherine is a gentle, thoughtful, middle-aged woman with a heart of gold and a very well behaved standard poodle.
“I’m trying to get Gretta to go to the bathroom,” Katherine said as we stood on the corner next to the dog park, “so I don’t have to chase her around the park and search for her poop.”
“I get it,” I said in an emphatically commiserating voice, “Luna refuses to pee or poo in our yard. She insists on concierge leash service to the parking…
