I know I’ve previously written about the woman in my office who was consistently a drag to work with.
I think I’ve also written that she since left the firm, of her own volition.
To her credit, her manager is unquestionably the most demanding member of our 40+ staff — already a very small number of employees, in relation to the overly thick book of business that we hold.
One thing that always struck me about her, though, was how into her pet dog she was. As in, it was apparent she put her golden retriever above most people in her life — and sometimes even her job.
But after sharing an apartment with a golden the past 11 months, it dawned on me why: everything, literally EVERYTHING else in your life can feel like a sharp pain, like it’s draining you, sucking your soul out, chipping away at your will…but a dog will ALWAYS come back to love you.
I mean I know this about dogs. They are unconditional playmates. But I can see why an individual who often behaves immaturely around humans would be so into their pet.
You can feel like your worst self around other people, but a dog knows naught but love.
When Charlie’s home and my home became one and the same last January, I was not reluctant, per se…but definitely wary of keeping his space and my space separate. Week by week, month by month, that concern has waned.
Once, crossing the threshold of my bedroom doorway was expressly forbidden.
Now, I cannot wait to get home and watch him excitedly bound to and fro, dashing upon my mattress to receive his bounty of pets and pats.
I love this little maniac.