In Life Too Often, It’s the Tail Waggin’ the Dog
May 17, 2013 Leave a comment
I love the beat of Cody’s tail wagging against the floor, against the door, against the wall, against the bed he is lying on. I’m not sure whether it will be Cody’s heart that gives out before his tail stops wagging.
Cody’s my 10 year old chocolate lab. We’re kinda attached at the hips. He goes to work with me every day. He goes to work most days, I am out of town on business. I now have a ramp he uses to load up into the back of my SUV. It is a ceremony. He’s not fan of the trip up. I’ve employed what is best to describe as a soft suitcase I wrap him in, to coax him up the ramp. He’s frantic, so there’s always a treat waiting for him. Upon arrival, and his descent, he reminds me of an arriving dignitary, including the obligatory pause for photo ops, before his parade trip down the ramp.
Cody knows when it’s time to go to work. He knows when it is time for his 10 and 4 o’clock walks. He knows he goes to North Park in the AM and he knows he tours the office park in the afternoon.
Most important he knows when it is time to go home. Dinner!
If you ask him to change his routine, you meet with the stubbornness of a 100+ lb. dog, who knows who’s in charge.
He knows when the UPS truck arrives. He knows the drivers. He knows whether to expect a biscuit or a good rub. The drivers know him, too. After all, “What can brown do for you?”
You might say Cody has it made. Even before you see his beds at home or the leather sofa he spends an increasing amount of time on at the office, but there’s a point to all this dribble. So bear with me.
Cody’s hips are giving in to father time, so he’s getting laser to strengthen his shoulders and flanks. If it works for him, I’m next in line.
Cody now goes to bed before Terri and I do. Both of us cracked a smile and laughed the first time he left us to head for bed. Now we know Cody has more common sense than we do.
A former neighboring business owner had a 10 year old white lab named Jack. Like Cody, he came to work with his owners each day. Jack died suddenly. We were commiserating when Jack’s owner said to me, “give Cody a good back scratch for Jack.”
When I scramble to meet a deadline, decry the political theatre, grouse over a lost order or worry about where the next dollar is coming from, all I have to do is look to my friend. He’s most often at my feet.
I am reminded. I have so much to live for, why not make things right in this messed up world? The solution?
Everyone should get a good tummy rub and a nice back scratch every day. Cody does.