Monday is for the Dogs
Monday morning again.
Good grief.
Before I even crawl out of bed, I’m jarred awake by the ruckus outside my house: The gardener's nuclear leaf-blower, the garbage truck burping and belching it’s way down the street, the honking and chatter of carpoolers dropping off their precious ones at the school across the road.
Make it go away.
I've built a life based on avoidance and fantasy, so I hide under my covers praying in vain that it will all go away.
But it won’t, so I shut my eyes and seek refuge in a world of fantasy where I’m hunkered down in a luxury bomb shelter with a big screen TV and enough beer and salty snacks to last until the end of days.
Then my delectable next-door neighbor, Cheyenne, the friendly yoga instructor, prances into my fantasy - scantily clad I might add.
Oh me, oh my, oi vey!
Before I can say, “downward dog,” I'm thrust back into reality by the nerve-rattling bark of my dog, DJ, demanding his morning walk. Or else.
I’d bawl like a baby if my son didn't barge into the room asking for $200 to buy new textbooks that he'll never crack open.
Cannot cope with this harsh reality. Never could, but Reality just bit me in the proverbial balls.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
I unwittingly start humming that downer Beatles’ song, Nowhere Man.
DJ nips at my pajama sleeve and tugs me out of bed. I throw on a hat ‘n hoody and sneak a shot of vodka (with devilish glee) when my wife turns away.
Still, it’s Monday morning again.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
"What are you so happy about?" I growl at DJ, who beckons me on with those melting big brown eyes, tail wagging like a propeller.
Yet again I catch myself envying my dog - that pulsating bundle of enthusiasm, always ready to carpe the diem, to seize, to squeeze, to tease every glorious moment of this charade we call Life.
And inevitably at this point, I wonder, wa-wa-wa-wonder, why can’t I be more like my dog?
Why, why, why can't I be like my dog?
Why can’t I seize the day, bask in the sunshine of life, frolic like a fool? View Monday morning as the dawn of opportunity? Revel in the frabjous cacophony of street sounds. Dance on my front lawn like a whirling dervish just because.
I leash up DJ, his tail propelling at full speed in rapturous anticipation of the morning walk, those soulful dewy eyes twinkling like heavenly stars.
And for that fleeting juncture of time on a chaotic Monday morning, my cup runneth over with joy: Seeing the world through the eyes of my dog.
So I chant Hallelujah and this time it’s real.
