Motivational Speaker

A Dog's Life.

It must be morning; I'm hungry.
Then again, I'm always hungry, so it could really be any time.
I can hear the shower and feel the sun on my back, so I'm guessing the Boss is awake.
I lift my head off my bed and look down the passage.
I want a shower too.
Sometimes I try and get in but he won't let me.
Boring.
He's not so happy in the mornings any more.
He used to be, but things have changed.
I think it's stress.

Not really sure what that is, but I know it's not good.
It's a human thing.
I've heard him talk about it on the phone.
Don't really know what a phone is either, but I know they're good to chew.
Chewing's one of my favourite things.

In the old days we wrestled every morning.
He'd pull my ears and I'd jump on his head.
These days, not so much.
Before he went to work, we'd play ball.
After work too.
He'd throw, I'd fetch.
He'd throw, I'd fetch.
Forever.
What an amazing game.
Such fun.
He'd laugh and talk human. I'd growl.
I'd laugh if I could.
Mostly, I'd just wag my tail.
I think it's sad that humans don't have tails.
Sometimes he'd lose focus, so I would nudge him.
Maybe a little nip on the hand just to keep his head in the game.
How much fun can one Golden Retriever and one human have?

But lately he seems grumpy.

Sometimes, I wonder if he still loves me.
I lick him anyway because he's my favourite human in the world.
I get so excited to see him.
When he hugs me, my tail wags all by itself.
I wonder why my kisses don't make him happy like they used to.

In the good old days, we would walk to the park every day.
We'd hang out with other dogs and humans.
I mostly played with Kelvin the fat Labrador and the Boss would laugh with Kelvin's human; a female who smelled like vanilla.
I licked her once.
She didn't taste so good.
We don't walk together much these days.
And when we do, he talks on the phone.
I hate that phone.
I'm gonna eat it when he's not looking.

I liked it more when we lived in the first house.
The little one.
Three houses ago.
He played with me the most in that house.
I loved that place.
He was happier and he didn't yell at me for getting on the couch.
Or chewing his shoes.
We used to watch TV together on the couch every night.
Well, I slept, he watched.

He would rest his hand on my head.
I like that.

Now we live in a big house, with a big stupid couch.
A stupid couch for humans only.
Not dogs.
I don't like the big house or the big couch.
He makes me stay down on the stupid slippery polished floor boards.

The other day I slid into the table and hurt my nose.
Stupid floor boards.

When I was puppy we used to go everywhere together.
We would both ride in the old station wagon and I would put my head out the window.
Or on his lap.
It was the most fun ever.
I don't know why humans don't do it.
Head out the window, that is.
Don't they know?

No more head out the window action for me these days though.
Mr Serious has a new fancy schmancy car.
Apparently, it's a dog-free zone too.
On the rare occasion that I do get a ride, I have to lie on three blankets.
And no wind in my face.
What's the point of that?
Like having a bone you can't chew.
Stupid.

We used to go to the beach every weekend in that old station wagon.
We surfed together.
Well, he surfed, I chased seagulls, played in the waves and rolled in the sand.
He liked talking to the girl humans who wanted to play with me.
They only talked to him because I was there.
Sometimes he got kisses but I always got more.
On the way home I would put my wet, sandy, hairy body on the front seat and he was happy I was next to him.
I loved that car too.
Those were the days.
We haven't done that since I was four.
Five years ago.

Too busy apparently.
Too busy being successful and important to have fun with me.
Glad I'm not successful, it doesn't look like much fun.

But I'm so adorable, I don't understand why he doesn't miss me.
In fact, I don't really understand him sometimes.
He's meant to be smarter than me but lately, I'm not so sure.
I know I'm just a dog and I don't really understand a lot of human stuff, but I do know about fun and happiness.

He's rarely happy these days.
And he's always too tired to do anything.
Even when I pull his sleeve.
Or lick his face.
If he got rid of the stupid slippery floor, the dumb couch, the dumb car and played with me more, then he would be happy.
Me too.

I used to sleep on the end of his bed.
Used to.
(heavy sigh)
But now he has a new dog-free bed too.
Of course.
It's expensive and apparently I moult.
Whatever that means.
I hate that bed.
I chew the legs when he's not around.

Next year we're moving to another house.
A bigger one.
Maybe that will make him happy.
Hope so.
Doubt it though.
If I could speak, I'd tell him that too.
I don't get the big house thing; there's only him and me.
Us dogs don't really care how big our kennel is, we just want to be near our human.

Anyway, I'm very excited about today.
I'm gonna hang out with Charlie for a while.
He's my buddy from over the fence.
We made a hole so we can visit each other.
I'm not really sure what kinda dog he is, but it doesn't matter.
He's pretty smart but not quite as handsome as me.
We do fun stuff together every day.

Mostly we chase birds.
I hate those birds.
And we chew old lady Jacobs' laundry baskets.
We've eaten three of them.

Baskets not birds.

Then I might lie in the sun.
And chew my foot for a while.
I might have a power-nap too.
Chasing birds makes me tired.

I reckon the Boss should lie in the sun with me.
And chew his foot for a while.
It's relaxing.
It might help with his stress.

Whatever that is.

*Share your thoughts on this post and tell us where you're from.

Labels: happiness, personal development

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Boring Old Farts.

Sometimes I feel like I must have missed that group-memo coming into adulthood regarding the age-fun, inverted-correlation mandate. You know the one. The one that stipulates that as we age we are required to have proportionately less and less fun; also known as the Progressive Misery Theory. As a keen observer of human behaviour, I'm beginning to think that maybe there actually was such a memo.

So glad I missed it.

Have you ever noticed how boring, intense, predictable, grumpy and 'unfun' (a word) some grown-ups are lately? If any of you ever see me being that unpleasant, feel free to slap me.

"But Craig (said in a whiney, annoying voice) you don't understand my life, issues, problems, history, relationships, situation."
"Yes, you are indeed unique to humanity, nobody has ever faced the adversity that you have.. . of course you should revel in your misery... if anyone rightfully deserves to be unhappy, it's you!! "

Please don't trip over my sarcasm as you walk through this post but I am sick of grumpy, miserable, Energy Vampires rationalising and justifying their perpetual long face and woe-is-me-ness.

Their shoulders must be so sore from carrying the world around.

Well, I do understand that people with terminal illnesses can, and do have fun (seen it)... and I do know that children living in poverty can play games and laugh every day (seen that too), and I do know that eighty year-olds can be fit, fun, positive, productive and amazing (seen it)... and I do know that quadriplegics can (amazingly) be more productive and have more fun without the use of their limbs because they make that choice (seen it).... so my theory is that there's a definite likelihood that your 'lack' of fun is less about your situation, circumstance or age and more about your shitty attitude.

Excuse my honesty.
How dare I tell you what I think and what you don't wanna hear.
Feel free to dislike me.
Get in the (rather long) queue.

Ever noticed how some people always seem to have much more fun than most?
Just lucky I guess.
Or maybe because they choose fun.
I've chosen fun.

There's a notion: fun is a choice.

Lately I feel like I've spent far too much time with, and around, the fun police... those grumpy, judgemental, opinionated old farts who peer down their nose at anyone who isn't like them; mind-numbingly boring, miserable and predictable. They even justify their unpleasant disposition....

"You wouldn't understand adversity if it hit you on the head... back in my day.."

Whatever Grumps.
Er, Gramps.

Here's another notion: it is possible to be mature, responsible, professional, intelligent, productive... and to have a truck-load of fun on a regular basis. It's also possible to do this at any age.

By the way, 'fun' is healing.
Money isn't.
Neither are possessions.

I find it frustrating and sad that so many people seem to rationalise their behaviour because of their age. I am 45, 55, 65, 75... therefore I should do certain things, and not do others.

"We don't stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing"
How true.

Over the years I have run many camps and live-in personal and professional development programs for people of all ages... and to give ourselves a break from the cerebral 'classroom' stuff, we throw ourselves into some fun-based activities, challenges and games.
Planned silliness.
I gotta tell ya... people of all ages love games.
And fun.
And laughing their guts out.
Get out a volleyball, football, basketball tug-of-war rope and watch people's eyes light up.

Following the games, physical challenges and activities (not the reason they came on the program by the way) people always come to me and say something like... "that's the most fun I've had in years..." When I suggest that they should invest more energy in 'fun' (games, silliness) and make it a regular part of their life, it's like they have a revelation!
Yep, fun; you should give it a go... it's quite enjoyable."

Every day I give Johnnie (my right hand man) a hug.
Every day he protests.
He never reciprocates.
I am relentless.
Every day we wrestle (physically) as I do my best to share some 'Harper' love.
He resists, tells me I'm an idiot and we laugh.
He pretends he hates it... but he loves the love.

Sometimes I sneak up behind him.
Inappropriate, silly behaviour.
Fun.

A little spontaneous (or planned if you must) silliness is somewhat liberating.
And healthy.
It's been suggested that, for a person in my position, my behaviour is periodically juvenile and inappropriate.

Well, to all those old farts... I'd rather be inappropriate than YOU!

Labels: happiness, motivational speaker

28 comments

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Exercise Scientist

Renovate Your Life Blog

A Dog's Life.

Boring Old Farts.

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