Truth Tuesday: Sh*t on the Floor Like My Dog

My old dear dog, Milah, shat upon the floor last night during what we all know well as "The Hour All Parents Disappear," otherwise known as bedtime. It was just as I was convincing my four year old that it was not time to dance like a rabid vulture to Sia's latest tune that I saw my dog do - I kid you not - a happy dance in the hallway. She's 14, almost 15.

Tail wagging. Jumping off of the ground. I figured there must have been a squirrel lost in our house, that's how happy she was. So, fortunately for me, I rounded the corner with my dukes up ready to re-enact Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation and was greeted instead by the most giant turd of them all.

She has never done that before. In her entire 14, almost 15 years.

She also recently ate a whole chicken carcass from the trash. And she finally got waaaaaay too close to the FedEx truck, close enough to give it a piece of her mind. AND, she chased my neighbor on a motorcycle a few months ago, attacking it's tires like they weren't entirely capable of destroying her nose. She also went COMPLETELY deaf last year, but still suspiciously has this amazing ability to still hear when I say "bacon."

All of these events are how I know that we human beings know nothing at all. How do I know that? Well, football. No, kidding. Because I promise you that Milah sits up at night writing in her journal and has been going to big deal conferences on how to live like you mean it, thusly resulting in a finely formed Bucket List. She's crossing off each aforementioned item - motorcycle chasing, chicken bones, selective hearing, FedEx truck destruction, save biggest turd of life for the living room floor - right now with a secret invisible pen in her invisible google tablet lodged in her eyeballs. Canine Technology is apparently vastly more advanced, you see, as it only looks to me that she's sleeping in her bed.

Us humans, boy oh boy, we're gonna fall even more behind if we continue to get so darn stuck in mundane things and continue to take ourselves so seriously.

I'm guilty of the above, which is why I think Milah is my person, I mean my dog, for life. She's teaching me a valuable lesson here called: Get Over Yourself and Your Problems and Shit On The Floor Once in a While.

Shake it off (me too). I know you've got stuff to rummage through too (me too). Just hang on, ok (me too)?

And, if you can trust my now proven idiocracy in relation to Dog Know-how, I'd highly suggest reacting to stress not with the normal corseting of joy and life and breath, but with the animal in you's need to move. MOVE. Get some blood flow. Allow your silly human brain to catch a break from fight/flight paralysis and slip into the gray area where mushy, wonderful solutions live. It works every.single.time. Use it.

Trust me, your dog's smarter than you. It's ok.

And, hey, it takes a village. My amazing village contains the artist Anna Sneed, who took this beautiful picture and can take yours as well. I highly suggest you find her and let that magic run through your day (or life because you'll keep them photos forevah). Click here for her info!