12. Never Forget the Filet Mignon: Remember Those Who Treat You Well
When I finally coerced the hubs when we finally decided to get a dog back in January of 2003, I began scouring the newspaper ads daily for rescues and shelter dogs (because that was during the internet Dark Ages, and that’s how people found stuff out back then). I assumed we’d be looking for a few months, then have a new pup by spring.
Turned out we found her much sooner than anticipated. We fell in love immediately (despite the fact that, contrary to the shelter vet’s promise, she did indeed have worms–plus mange, fleas, and an eye infection). We doted on her endlessly for ten full weeks.
And then–because we hadn’t expected her to enter our lives that quickly–we were obliged to go on vacation. (Well, “obliged” makes it sound like we didn’t actually want to go. This was a holiday we’d planned months in advance, a getaway out east to the maritime provinces, and we were excited. Just not thrilled at the prospect of leaving our sweet new pup).
Luckily, my best friend was able to keep her while we were gone. Despite some trepidation, we knew they had two kids, a guinea pig, two cats and a bird, so could likely handle one extra puppy.
The trip itself was fabulous. We toured the Avalon Peninsula with its endless trees and ocean views, the cataracts near Colinet and their breathtaking falls, St. John’s with its amazing seafood and jellybean palette houses, and the series of towns with heart-centric names that were simply too adorable to miss (I mean, who wouldn’t want to see a place called Heart’s Desire? Or Heart’s Delight, or Heart’s Content?).
When we finally landed back in Toronto, the hubs having had his fill of lobster, scallops, crab, mussels and the like (while I’d amassed handfuls of beach rocks and crystals), we headed immediately to my friend’s to pick up our girl.
I’d fully expected us to rush into each other’s arms (well, technically, I’d be rushing into her paws), but when the door opened, Elsie was nowhere to be found.
“I think she’s still playing with the kids,” my friend told me.
Then her husband appeared from around the corner. And there was Elsie, practically clinging to his legs.
Had she forgotten who we were after two measly weeks? I thought dogs were supposed to have great memories?
My friend’s husband patted her head absently, his other hand cupped near her face. In his palm was a huge hunk of premium doggie treat, the kind that looks and smells like actual meat. Ah, well then, that was the problem.
Elsie grabbed the prize, then sat down to gobble happily.
“Here, why don’t you try one of these,” he offered, handing over one of the sausage-shaped treats to me. “She likes these ones.”
Upon further questioning, I discovered that Elsie’s stay had been akin to kids spending time at grandma’s. Here, she could sit on the furniture (a no-no at home); play with a wide array of squeaky, furry and bouncy toys; romp for hours with child companions; receive endless attention; sleep on a cushy pillow at night; and–the piece de resistance–be fed a constant stream of real beef, chicken, sausages, yogurt and other assorted treats. In other words, doggy heaven.
After we dragged her away, I spied Elsie’s sullen expression in the rear-view mirror as we drove home.
The hubs wondered aloud: “What the heck did they feed her? Filet mignon? Lobster?”
It was as if she’d had her own personal tour of Heart’s Delight and Heart’s Content, right there in the city. As we confirmed over and over in the years that followed, Elsie’s heart was firmly connected to her stomach.
After a couple of weeks, our previous routine re-established itself, and we became a happy family unit once again. Elsie acclimatized once more to dog treats as treats, patting and pampering of the non-furniture variety, having only two adult humans with whom to engage (and no other animals).
But she never quite got over that early stay with my friends.
For the rest of her life (15 more years), whenever my friend and her husband arrived at our house, Elsie went berserk. She would literally lose her mind: eyes glazed over and oblivious to commands, racing in circles, tongue lolling sideways out of her mouth, heavy panting and whining, all while attempting to jump into the arms of the object of her own Heart’s Desire–my friend’s husband.
It was a great lesson for me in the fact that dogs never forget. If someone treats them well, they are forever grateful and will love that person until the end of their days.
Can we say the same about humans? Sure, we might express thanks for a kind gesture, or appreciation when someone provides aid if we need it. But how often do you let someone know how much their behavior meant to you–even weeks, months or years after the fact?
One of my mentors has a morning ritual he practices every day. Part of his daily routine is to write a short note of appreciation to someone in his life. It could be his wife, a relative, a colleague–or someone he hasn’t spoken to in years.
I loved this concept when I first heard of it. And I know first-hand how much a gesture like that can mean.
Early in my teaching career, I had a student who attended all of my classes and never spoke a word. This girl had come into my class writing essays at the “D” level, and by the end of the semester, her work improved remarkably; she wrote consistently “A-” papers by the end of the term.
As a result, when I learned of a college-wide contest for “most improved student,” I entered her name. To my delight, she won (a cash award meant to help students pay tuition). I attended the ceremony at the end of the year and cheered her on as she accepted the award. Then I never saw her again.
But about five years later, I received a card in the mail from her. She was now working at a financial institution and had been promoted to a managerial level. She wrote to tell me how much the prize had meant to her.
“When most of your time at college is pretty faceless, it’s nice to know that there are still teachers who care. It meant a lot that you took the time to help me improve my work and submit my name for the award. I’ll never forget how much that affected me and it has helped me to have the career I now have.”
Needless to say, the note sparked some tears and warmed my heart. And it meant just as much to me that she remembered me, all those years later.
The challenge this week? Appreciate someone in your life–whether they are currently still in it or not–while you still can. Send a note, send an email, place a call or tell ‘em face to face.
Who has had a positive impact in your life? Why not let them know? They’ll be touched by it, and you might just experience your own version of Heart’s Content as a result.
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: Always Be Learning
Zoey is into it (especially when treats are involved).
Are you familiar with the famous Steve Martin bit from the 1970s? It goes something like this: “YOU can be a millionaire and never pay taxes! Yes, YOU can be a MILLIONAIRE and never pay taxes! . . . . First–get a million dollars. . . .” By this point, my friends and I were laughing so hard we never heard the rest of the bit.
But here’s something fascinating about the man: I remember reading years ago that Martin deliberately chose to divide his life into various segments, each of which was devoted to excelling at something new he loved.
Ergo, we first lauded him as a comedian. Just when he hit his stride (and fame) in that realm in the early 80s, he retired from standup and switched gears to acting. Next, he embarked on a career as a professional writer (with two novellas under his belt, and a memoir named one of the top ten books of the year by Time magazine); followed by professional banjo player (whose work with Earl Scuggs garnered a Grammy).
Nowadays, he appears in Only Murders in the Building, the TV show he produces and stars in with his bestie, Martin Short. And all this hasn’t even touched on his work as an art aficionado and curator, his stint as a playwright, or his many years touring with a band.
So impressive, right? And so admirable. SO talented! So prolific. And. . .kind of makes me feel like a lazy slug.
But in the spirit of last week’s challenge, I attempted to channel some of Martin’s energy and devote myself to learning some new things.
Here’s what went down:
I read several articles about crypto and the fall of FTX; I finally worked my way through a couple of the online courses I bought and never completed (list building and editing); I was a beta tester for a colleague’s course about how to improve sleep (so far, so good); I took a lesson from our dog trainer on how to prevent Zoey being triggered by what the hubs and I call “little white fluffys”; I binged the entire series of Harry and Meghan on Netflix; and I learned how to make paper bag snowflakes (sort of like these):
Learning is fun!
OK, I have to admit, I love learning. My favorite years were when I was a student; my favorite activity is often taking a course. So it wasn’t exactly a hardship to learn a few new things this past week.
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Over to you:
Is there a childhood experience so positive that it imprinted on you for the rest of your life? What was it?
Where was the best vacation you’ve ever been to?
What was the most impactful learning experience you’ve had? What did you learn?