What does it mean, to live? Yesterday I wrote about looking at myself in the mirror and insisting, “Live.” What is it I’m insisting?
Mostly I think I mean, if nothing else, beat inertia. It’s so easy to sit and mope — woe is me. I is woe, and woe is no fun. In fact, woe is downright unpleasant.
Some folks find themselves so deep in woe that they can’t move. That’s why when I feel woe creeping up and starting to nail me to the chair, I stand up and walk around saying, “Live!” As firmly as I can — unless, of course, Summer is lying in front of me with her snout resting on my foot. Then I just look down and my heart melts, and it’s impossible for woe to take hold when your heart is melting.
That’s why I recommend that you find yourself a puppy, or an appreciative old dog. Some people prefer cats — I used to think of myself as a cat person, but it just turned out that I hadn’t met the right puppy.
What was I saying? Oh, yeah. “Woe is me,” but then I got to thinking about puppies, and what do you know? Woe took one look at me and high-tailed out of here looking for a more willing victim. My goodness, I love my doggies.
