You know sometimes no matter how perky & optimistic a person is, bad crap just gets her down.
Sunday mornings always get to me. I usually try to sleep them away and ignore it.
I’m tending some kittens and they have to be fed early. Not to forget about my own pets and Mid-daughters doggies.
Pet-centric is how I describe my mornings.
I got all those chores done and going back to bed was not an option. The grandsons got up and needed their first breakfast.
I tended to them…cold cereal and juice. Turned on the TV for them.
I went out on the deck to listen to the birds and let the dogs out for a bit.
I sat on the top step and wondered: How the heck did I get here? What cosmic forces put me in this place at this age with these obligations?
I was pondering a little day dream. I was in some exotic locale with exciting people and drinking mimosas for breakfast.
From behind 2 little arms came around my neck and a cute little boy said "I wuv you Nana "
I thought, I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.
I have the perfect life.
Very sweet story, and I fully concur with your conclusion. All that stuff at the beginning of your story that sounds like chores is actually a big part of what makes life worth living. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to care for miniature humans, but even back when I had Bernie, the Bernese Mountain Dog, I had a more regular, more normal schedule, more responsibilities, activities and exercise, and ultimately I think a healthier existence.
As for the Yorkie peeing on your foot, with all respect to an animal that I’m sure you love dearly, it has long been my belief that any so-called dog of that size is more closely related to a paramecium than to an actual dog. A Real Dog has to be capable of knocking you down with the energy of unalloyed pure joy, drooling on you, and clearing the entire coffee table with one swoop of its mighty tail. If it can’t do that, it’s not really a true canine.
Every so often, I get reflective, and wonder, just like you did. When I was in high school (back when pterodactyls flew across the skies), I had my life all planned out. My third year of college, the wheels came off the bus, and my life made a huge turn from the path I had planned.
So, yeah, I wonder.
But Life is full of twists and turns. The ride is harrowing at times. Hoo, boy!
But I figure there’s a reason why. And things do have a way of working out for the best. Of course, when you are up to your eyeballs in shit, it’s hard to see the Big Picture!
I can look back, and see how everything has unfolded for me, and I’m very very grateful for my life.
The universe has a way leveling things that totally stuns me at times.
The most horrific thing that has ever happened to me seems to have been part of the magical plan, in the end.
I’m not much for pushing my way through and making things happen. It’s more of a spectator sport for me.
That’s not to say I’m not in the mix. I may not be running with bulls but I’m close enough to step in the poop. And I generally do. :smack:
I have a good life. I’m happy with it.
Now, if the world would co-operate and quit going to hell in a hand basket.
Oh, you definitely would have loved him. All it takes is a big heart and a love of animals, and you’ve got plenty of both. I have stories, but I’m not not gonna hijack your lovely thread with them now. That’s for another time and place.
sister.