The other day I picked up a shift at my old dog daycare job, even though I wasn’t really in the mood for it. But the dogs knew that though and tried to lick my hands a lot to make me feel better. It only partially worked.

I was sad to find that in the month and a half or so since I’d left, things had gone to shit with my canine companions. One of the Dalmations had developed neurological problems which were causing it to hobble around and act even creepier than usual. I don’t much care for Dalmations, but it’s really sad to see an animal in pain like that. And one of my other furry friends had broken his leg. But he was as lively as ever. Actually, maybe more so.

This dog’s owner is one of the only people there who I really ever connected with. I was always talking up a storm to the dogs, but when people came to pick them up I was typically pretty tight-lipped around them. Most of them are just not as worth talking to as their dogs. It sounds harsh, but I think we can all recognize the truth in a statement like that.

I’d had a lot of fun short conversations with this guy in the past. It’s amazing how much you can cram into a 4 minute conversation with a virtual stranger if you are both on the ball. We’d talked in the past a good bit about dog pack behavior and breeds, both of which I think are very interesting subjects. He was also very supportive about my decision to read Shakespeare to the dogs.

“That will be good for them,” is what he said.

We also had a conversation about Romeo & Juliet once which perhaps I should have recognized as dramatic foreshadowing. He said something to the effect of, “You know, every time I see that story put on as a play or musical or whatever, I always wish it would end differently. But it never does.”

“Yeah, you just have to write a different ending is the thing,” was my response.

And that is exactly what I have done.

With this first draft of my new “musical” I finished on Saturday. Actually, that’s not quite accurate. The ending isn’t different, is the thing. All I have really done is made another scene after the ending of the classic Romeo & Juliet Shakespearean-type tragedy. I don’t remember who said it or where I heard it, but all you have to do to change a comedy to a tragedy or a tragedy to a comedy is end it at a different place. All stories have ups and downs - arcs. If you pick where along the arc you want to center your attention and energy, then there you go. Pick the up part instead of the down part. Actually, that’s dangerous, because the bad part is going to come through on it’s own inevitably if you start acting this story out. It’s better to find the jewel at the bottom of the bad part, the Redemption in Hell™, because then things can only get better from there.

Until you hit the next arc, of course. But there’s no point in worrying about any of that. It’s just a story after all. It may be your life, but you can re-write it if you have patience and the creative focus to pull it off.

Anyway, this dog guy the other day had more pearls of wisdom for me. When most people say, “Things will work themselves out,” I don’t really believe them. I mean I appreciate the sentiment on some level, but mostly I’m just like Shut up and leave me alone. But this guy is one of these people: he just speaks with authority. You know what I mean? He says things, and you believe him. You have no choice. No doubt. But it’s not in a pushy way. He just knows things.

“Oh, you’re back!” he said.

“Yeah…” I trailed off. I do that a lot nowadays.

“Well are you staying around or what’s your plan?”

“Don’t know.” It’s a question I hate answering because it throws me back onto all the self-doubt and confusion about everything that’s happened in my life.

“Well, whatever you decide, things will work out.”

I mean, it’s stupid advice. It’s trite, on one level almost. But it’s one of those things: it’s just simple and true. But the important part is that it hinges on one thing: it’s my decision how I feel, how I react, how I live and what happens next in my life. I mean I say this shit all the time to myself, but things coming from an outside source like this tends to reinforce these really elementary points.

Before leaving he put this plastic sock thing over his dogs cast because the grass was still wet outside.

“He must hate that thing,” I said.

“Not really. He doesn’t even seem to notice,” his owner said.

This little dog I think may be one of my “spirit animals” right now. Breaks his leg (God only knows how, I didn’t ask), and the cast doesn’t slow him down but speeds him up. Because he made the decision not to let it get him down.

I mean, maybe dog’s don’t really make decisions like that. Maybe they’re beyond that. But I’m not, not yet. But I’m getting there. Slowly. In the meantime, I have decided to not let this cast slow me down.

yeah annie lennox is awesome i know right?