You know what I love about dogs? They are who they are, and they don't spend a lot of time worrying about being what society, or anyone else, wants them to be. They act, and react, based on their natural inclinations, and your direction. The only people they worry about are the people who actually matter to them - their pack. Although there are celebrity dogs, you don't find the family pet worrying about what Annette Bening's dog is up to, because it just isn't relevant to their lives.
Thus, you find our mutt in an expensive fur coat, otherwise known as TidBit, running around with dreadlocks in his Papillion ear fringe, his pure bred fur coat occasionally dirty and sometimes even matted, especially after a good roll on the lawn, hair hanging in his eyes, yet still completely pleased with himself, because he has his toy and is ready to play. Gizmo, the actual mutt with an inferiority complex, runs around like a maniac, barking at the wind, still completely at peace with how he is living his life, as long as I'm not mad at him.
The only thing that really matters to either of them is that they have a warm place to sleep and two square meals a day, along with the company of the humans who are in charge of their lives. They are content to let everything else happen as it will, with no fanfare or advanced planning required.
In short, their lives are simple and straightforward. To know themselves is uncomplicated. If only it were so simple to be human.
I have heard it said that life throws curve balls at us. I think life is a curve ball. The trajectory never seems to take me where I expect, and I am always ending up in left field from an unplanned hit when I thought I would be right over the plate.
This week, for example, I had my calendar set, appointments ready to attend, work to be produced. I knew on Sunday when I perused my weekly obligations exactly what would happen through the week, and what I hoped to have accomplished by week's end.
Something funny happened on the way to Saturday, however, and I got nothing accomplished that I expected. We got hit with a blizzard that was both unexpected and fearsome, the worst weather I have seen in Kansas City in the over 20 years since I've lived here, in fact.
Don't you just hate it when the weather people get it right?
They were obnoxious and annoying, warning us for days ahead of time that THIS one was going to be The Big One, The Storm of the Century. (What kind of chutzpah do you have to have to label something an "of the century" event when the century is only 11 years old, I ask you?) That is why I dislike weather people so much. Every time there is weather, it's an "-est" event - biggest, coldest, windiest, hottest - whatever is happening, they hype it until you don't listen any more. Of course, talking about weather is their job, so what else are they going to do, right? But that doesn't make it any more palatable out here in viewer-land.
This time, they gave fearsome predictions for unprecedented snowfall in an area that gets paralyzed by six inches at once. They warned the public to be prepared with extra food and water, in case people lost power, or couldn't get out for days. I rolled my eyes and yawned.
Fortunately, I did think it prudent to make sure I had adequate supplies of fresh food for the rabbit and myself, prompted by a glance at the sky on the morning of the main event. And I did have the ice melt at the ready, just in case the ice storm of the century actually did develop right on top of us. Otherwise, I was pretty cavalier about the whole thing, figuring it was just another non-event here in the heartland.
The day the storm was originally predicted to begin dawned, and nothing. The weather people started shifting, telling us it was delayed, but would happen overnight, then the following morning, then the following evening, and finally the day after that. By that time, I was cheering for a rout, hoping that the whole thing would simply evaporate, and the storm would just be an epic fail, much to my delight and their discomfort.
It did not work out quite as I had hoped. The ball not only curved, it came back and hit me, then kept going in the opposite direction. Life is funny that way - it has a way of humbling you when you get too uppity.
I have seen storms like this one before; growing up in Minnesota, I am familiar with blizzards. But I have never seen anything like it in Kansas City. We are not Minnesota, and were not prepared for what happened. It brought the entire metro area skidding to a halt, reminding us all that Mother Nature still wins when she has a temper tantrum.
The snow came down, slowly at first, dry little flakes pelting your face as they dropped from the grey clouds overhead. Then they came harder, and the wind picked up. Before we knew it, the ground was covered with white powder, and the snow was flying in all directions, as the 40 mph wind gusts threw it around.
When all was said and done, we got about a foot of snow where I am. Capricious, as blizzards are, it was blown into drifts as high as three feet in some places, while the ground was bare in others. The drifts were wind-swept, standing in frozen waves, crisp and white and brittle looking. The world was a fairy land - I half expected to see the Snow Queen walk through my yard at any moment.
I didn't leave the house for days. Living in the city, with everything nearly at my fingertips, I have lost the ability to plan ahead. I put off getting anything until I am out. I don't stock up, I don't think forward, I don't plan, because the 24 hour WalMart a few blocks away has enabled me to be irresponsible in that way.
When the blizzard hit, the fury of it all reminding us that in the end, nature will have her way, I found an old, now unfamiliar pattern, and stayed home. For days. Natural recluse that I am, I slipped into the comfortable seclusion effortlessly, and it was almost difficult to make myself leave when I finally ran out of something crucial and had to make my way to the store again at the end of the week.
I enjoy life's little interruptions, the diversions from my strict plan that unexpectedly make the journey interesting. While it is good to plan ahead, and it is necessary to set a schedule and have goals, the occasional reminder to be flexible when life curves away from your plan is important, as well.
On the other hand, too much of a good thing is a bad thing. I, for one, have had enough of the long winter, and I am ready for spring, and the renewal that it brings. I think the dogs would agree, because every time they go out the door, they look surprised anew at the blanket of white covering their familiar terrain. But then they jump right in and find a way through, taking life as it comes. I think they have the right attitude, and I will try to emulate that flexibility a little more joyfully this week.
If your life is a curve ball this week, here's hoping you enjoy left field! Batter up!
