Stories from Home

When I hear the phrase, ‘Sorry Jack, you have to stay home,’  I throw some serious shade in return, which translated from dog speak to the human language means:

‘I don’t think you understand the enormity of your decision or thought through all the consequences, therefore, I am giving you one more chance to change your mind and take me with you.  Go ahead. Give serious thought to what the next few hours will be like without me to brighten your day.

I will wait right here.’ 

Carpe Diem,

Jack

Sometimes I think laziness gets a bad rap.

If you think about it, maybe progress was made because somebody was too lazy to do it the way it was always done.  And through sheer laziness found a faster more efficient way.

Maybe, just maybe, someone was tired of writing everything out by hand and thought “today, wouldn’t it be nice to push keys and have letters appear.’

Voila.

The typewriter made its appearance into the world, saving lazy people thousands of hours of handwriting,

Speaking of which, when was the last time you wrote a note?

Actively idle,

Jack

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I have discovered that when you wake up in the middle of the night it can be the most lonely corner of the world.

You plead with your mind to surrender your body to sleep, hoping for dreams to carry you back to where life is fluid and easy, a beautiful release from reality. Cuz it’s hard to hide sadness at 2 am.  It’s a long time before the sun rises and the anonymity of the dark begs you to share your deepest pain.

Your secrets scream for release in the night stillness.

If you have been there, you will know these are the times for savoring heartache and hurt. The glorious sadness that is grief.

Take care of yourself,

Jack

Sometimes I am all fluidity, letting life flow.

And sometimes I am all about the efficiency of energy,  Today was one of those days.

It simply did not make sense to me,  if one was trying to reduce energy loss and improve performance, for my human to be in her chair at the desk and me on the floor.

Bare with me for my point is 2 fold.

a) it is not healthy, and science will back me up here, for humans to sit for hours at a desk, furiously completing one task after another without a break, like a turbocharged Tasmanian Devil.

b) dogs are happiest, and personal experience will validate my point, with near-constant human attention.

Whence, the application of the second point (b) would eliminate the consequences of the first point (a)

How is this not a win-win for all parties involved?

Save energy, save the world,

Jack

Solve for x.

x = me + my human x  activities and objects that bring happiness + comfort/hours in the day.

x = home.

I call this my happiness quotient.  The more I am at home chillaxing with my human and my toys the happier I am.

Often for me, there is a little distinction between the idea of home and my feelings when I am home.  It almost seems as if who  I am and where I am become one. Can I separate myself from home, the foundation of my being?

What is your ‘x’?

Peace,

Jack

Hey, a little help here.

Why can’t I find the Google Chrome icon?

How am I supposed to access the internet on this device to see my fav dog videos?

I am a modern-day dog and I am flummoxed, totally confused by this old school technology.  I am not even sure what it is.  It appears to be a first-generation wireless keyboard.

Sent from one of my 3 devices,

Jack

I put my head down and started to drift off to sleep.

I really wanted to play with my yellow bug-eyed toy; the one that was right behind me, but I couldn’t muster a sufficient amount of energy to even turn around, let alone raise the full length and weight of my body from the comfortable pose into which I had snuggled.

I sighed, took a deep breath and relaxed fully into dreamland.

Maybe later.

Maybe later I would get up and chase my yellow bug-eyed toy around the room.

Maybe.

Today was turning out to be one of those days.

One of those days when my body wouldn’t listen to my mind.

It was almost a mind vs body battle.

I wonder why that happens. And who started the fight?

Until next time,

Jack

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I arranged the white down comforter until it was just right.  And then I snuggled in, ready to put the day to bed.

The house had relaxed into its nighttime ritual, settling into its bones.   Its creaks and groans somehow louder in the dark.

This was my favorite time.  After the blanket of darkness descended and the business of life slowed.

This was my time to think. Somehow evening invited reflection and end of the day inventory. And the truths that were buried by the day’s distractions emerged into the stillness.

Do you ever feel the need to assign meaning to the day so that it does not slip unnoticed into just another week and then month and then year? So that when you look back it is not a blur of sameness?

Goodnight,

Jack