Monthly Archives: August 2014

The Case of the Missing Treats…

I walked into the room and instantly I knew something was amiss. It was a mess, and not the usual one. Clearly, something terrible had happened here. The little man followed me into the room, confusion on his face. Who would do this? Well, who had motive?

I contemplated the suspects as I walked amid the mess. Someone had tipped over a plastic Tupperware container that had once held a plastic bag full of treats. The container was empty. The plastic bag – on the floor with its innards ripped out. This was obviously the work of a madman. I noticed that the pile of scarves that was one of the few neat things in the room had been knocked over. So had a pile of pictures.

I picked up some of the photographs and reviewed them. It didn’t seem to me that they were picked for any particular reason. My gut was telling me that they just got knocked over in the shuffle. It made me wonder if someone interrupted the perp. What would I find next?

Who were the most likely suspects? On my list was Gir – the cat too curious for his own good; Dib – the cat who seems innocent, but really has a mischievous streak; Zim – the cat who is a loyal friend one minute and chewing your hair while you’re asleep on the couch the next, he was a crazy bastard, but was he capable of this? Then there was FH – could this have all been an accident? Had the treats been knocked over and this whole scene orchestrated to push the blame on someone else? My final suspect was Ranger – he walked into the room with me, acting as innocent as can be. A little too innocent if I was to really think about it. It fit.

But how to determine who’s hands were dirty? I could take samples – keep an eye on the deposits made by the suspects. I haven’t been the one walking the little man as of late – the gunshot wound in my knee made everything more difficult. (Ok, it wasn’t a gunshot wound, but that sounds cooler). I could ask FH to keep an eye out. If the stuff was digested too much, we could at least look for any large changes in volume. We had to see who in the house was taking the biggest poop.

With a plan in mind, I turn towards the door. I pick up the plastic bag again. It had been licked clean. I reflected again on the various suspects. FH wouldn’t lick the bag. For that matter, he wouldn’t eat the treats. They weren’t worth much on the black market, so I doubted he did it for the money. It seemed more and more likely he was innocent – he just didn’t have motive. I moved on. Gir, Dib, and Zim were all likely suspects, but messy eaters. They very rarely licked their bowls clean during mealtime. What would get them to lick this clean?

Then I remembered something. A while back there were some treats downstairs being kept in a white cabinet. The little buggers had discovered how to open the door and pulled some treats out. The cats went to town, eating as much as they could. They stuffed their faces until they were full and then kept eating. But when I found the mess there were traces of the treats all over the place. Either the cats were getting smarter (unlikely) or they were also innocent of this crime.

My eyes came to rest on the little man. His face no longer reflected curiosity and innocence. He looked damn guilty. His eyes said to me ‘I ate them mom, I’m sorry. But I’m just a dog and I couldn’t help myself.’ I looked at him again, trying to decide if he would have to be put on trial for this. How should I make him pay?

I was still debating it when he brought me his toy. It was his favorite, and he was clearly sacrificing it to me as an apology. I looked at him once more. He was giving me the puppy-dog eyes. *Sigh* I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time. He wagged his tail at my statement. I shook my head and walked out of the room. Case closed.

One Step at a Time

Having a knee injury has caused me to take everything slowly. I walk slowly. I leave my desk to fill water bottles at work slowly. I get dressed slowly. I cook slowly. I walk up the stairs slowly.

I find this to be infuriating because I like to go fast. I walk very quickly and when I get caught behind a ‘slow-walker’ I can feel the anger boiling inside me at the nerve this person has to walk in front of me at a slower pace than I want. Patience is not one of my virtues. I can say that without a doubt.

This knee injury however, it makes me do everything slowly. I even have to take the stairs one at a time. Going up the stairs for me right now is: step up with my left foot; bring my right foot to the same step; then rest. Repeat for as many steps as there are. It takes so much longer than it should. But I have a knee injury and it is what it is.

The point is that physically I have been forced to slow down. The more I think about it, the more I think I should be slowing down the rest of my life. I make myself so busy sometimes that I can’t even focus. I will make a to-do list that is four pages long and I get so overwhelmed by it that I have to ignore the whole list and go read a book or watch a movie. This is because the idea of starting at the beginning and working things one at a time is beyond my grasp. It’s too stressful looking at the big picture that I can’t get myself to slow down and just look at the first task.

This is something that I need to work on. I am frequently told that I need to relax more by Future Husband, and he’s right. I’m only twenty-seven years old. I have no children and minimal responsibilities in reality. So why do I let myself get so stressed out? I don’t know, but now that I can recognize this and actually acknowledge that Future Husband has a point, theoretically I should be able to make some changes.

Right now I have to take the stairs one at a time. It’s time to apply that to the rest of my life. Let’s try this whole ‘one step at a time’ philosophy and see if it helps. Who knows, I might actually learn to relax.