Not Fair – Day 516

“She took my bowl” – Photo: L. Weikel

Not Fair

Sometimes life’s not fair.

Good grief. If that’s not an understatement of the century, I don’t know what is.

And of course, images and knowledge of the hell so many are enduring right now spring to mind almost without bidding. Fairness? There’s very little ‘fairness’ in anything we see playing out around us.

And so, of course, I am not invoking the suffering of so many of our brothers and sisters, neighbors and friends, and the many people we don’t know, have never met, and probably will never encounter in our lives – those who are either suffering acutely from Covid-19 or are trying to help those afflicted survive it.

Nope. I’m going for a scootch less serious here, folks.

Always the Puppy

I took the photo above this evening after I witnessed Sheila, who is blind and deaf and over 15 and a half years old, hone in on a bowl of icing I’d put on the floor in front of Spartacus. (Not a full bowl, of course. How could you even imagine such a travesty? No, just a bowl ‘to be licked.’)

Sheila was asleep. Spartacus got a few licks in – maybe three – when she opened her rheumy eyes, raised her unsteady carcass, and lurched across the room with a single minded focus that was impressive, I must admit.

Spartacus didn’t know what hit him. Well, yes he did. Sheila immediately grasped the solid, hefty glass bowl in her determined little mouth and pulled the bowl away from Spartacus, who had his face fully immersed in it. He didn’t growl; but neither did he yield. He stuck with it for another couple licks, but Sheila would have none of it.

Or rather, she would have all of it. She dragged it halfway across the room, this bowl that’s so heavy there’s no way she’d be able to lift it. But she dragged it far enough that he got the message.

And that’s when I snapped the photo. His look said it all. “She took my bowl. I’m sad. But there’s nothing I can do. She’s my mom.”

Good Boy

Karl and I told him what a good boy he was for sharing, even if it wasn’t entirely voluntary. And we paid extra special attention to him, which in Spartacus land, is every bit as sweet as any icing he might score. Plus, we knew he’d gotten in a couple good licks – that was why I’d given the bowl to him in the first place. I knew Sheila’s sense of smell remains unerring – and her love of icing may only be eclipsed by her passion for ice cream. I knew she’d be on it like lightning, no matter how deep in Dreamtime she might initially be.

We show love in so many ways. Whether we’re humans or canines, a little bit of patience, a choice to be kind or generous, a gesture of compassion. Every time we show or do any of these toward another, we make life here on Earth a little bit better.

So before you say or think, “Not fair” today, may you give a nod to Spartacus and share your bowl of icing with those you love the most – with nary a growl nor a grudge.

(T-595)