Happiness Is An Old Bone

I have a dog. He’s a Terrier mutt we got at the Prince William County ASPCA over the summer. He’s a cute little dog but most people think he looks like a trash can mongrel. I love him despite his cute shortcomings. In the process of taking care of Rallo, I have learned quite a few things about the simplicity of life. Things I just don’t get from kids these days.

From the day we picked up Rallo from the pound, you could tell he was happy. People often wonder how much their pets actually understand about their circumstances, I don’t. I think Rallo fully understood that he was abandoned and on his own and that now, he had a family and a home. He immediately came in and walked over to his little red bed and laid down. In all my days of being a pet owner, I have never had a dog actually use their pet bed for anything more than a chew toy.

Our dog has a very simple personality. As long as his bowl has water and food in ready supply, he’s happy. He’s jumping, he’s playful and constantly wags his little tail. An occasional biscuit or a new bone is the cherry on top of his little doggy cake. As I sat there this morning watching him, in pure bliss, chewing on his bone, I wondered why aren’t people like this?

We spend so much time in our lives trying to accomplish the impossible dream and get all the things we think we deserve and need. When do we ever stop and smell the roses? When are we ever content and fulfilled with what we have?

Lately, I would say I’ve reached the point of contentment. I have everything I need and some of what I would want. Then I look at my children and I see they are never content. They are always worrying about what the other has, what their friends have. How do you teach a child to be happy with what they have? How do we expect children to be grateful that they have a roof over their head and food on the table when we as adults are going into debt because we want bigger and better of everything?

I will not even pretend to mislead you and say that I have never been in that category. I have. I wanted the best of everything, I figured I deserved it and was distraught when I couldn’t get it. Over the years I’ve realized that things are just things that don’t last or get left behind when you’re gone. The meaningful things are the hours you spend with the people you care about and the “things” are the cherries on top.

One day, I want to sit outside on my deck, breeze blowing though my hair and think to myself, “it can’t get any better than this”. When I grow up, I want to be like Rallo.  Content with life and finding happiness in an old bone.

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