You might also think it sad that I was, in part, motivated by my dog.
Most people would agree that a dog’s whole being is about living in the moment, much like when I grabbed the neck of that bottle and pulled it down to be enjoyed after two long years of gathering dust. Our greyhound, Izzy, is a great example. One of the things we will never know her is her past. She was found as a stray in a Grand Prairie field last summer with no collar and no ear tattoo, the typical mark of a racing greyhound. And so we will never know the answers to a plethora of questions: How old is she? Was she a racer? Did she live in a home? Is she a mommy? It’s all a mystery. But what isn’t a mystery is that our dog, despite all of the unknowns, lives in the present. She didn’t need psychotherapy sessions or medication to get over things in her past, which quite possibly include starvation, abuse, or being used to hunt coyotes (yes, that happens—more on that later). All our girl needs to be content is a soft bed, a full belly, and a little lovin’ from her people. Oh ya, and she also likes a daily romp outdoors and the opportunity to stare down as many squirrels as possible. But like most dogs, life is simple. As someone who struggles with contentment, I feel I can take a note about living in the moment from Izzy and our canine friends.
So I tested this philosophy last Thursday evening, and just for the record, it was totally worth it. That bottle of French wine was heavenly.