Story time:

Many, many years ago, when mastodons roamed the earth, we got a dog. For whatever reason she wasn’t working out with her current owners, so we adopted her. They told us that she didn’t like men, wouldn’t get on the furniture, and did not eat people food; and every time she was fed she got really really excited about the dog food. “Hope springs eternal.”

In almost thirty years of feeding a dog (we have always had a dog) nearly every night, I always think about that line. As my dog is tap dancing and just about doing back flips for some dried up kibble that costs pennies a pound, I think “Hope springs eternal.”

I’m pretty sick of myself, at this point, so I won’t repeat my usual BS about feeling like shit about how I’ve handled things. It’s all around here to read, someplace. So anyway, what I want to focus on now, is that every day is a new chance. A new hope. I can’t change the past, I can’t unsay things or undo things, (“unfuck” things).

What can I do?

I can make a difference each day; I can push myself to improve, to not fall back on my old ways. I can not worry about things that I cannot control. I can be a good dad, I can be a great roommate.

I can feed my dog each night; she is always glad to see me get fed. I can hope for the future.

epilogue to story time: In a week or two our dog broke every “rule” we were given; she lived on the couch (or bed), ate her weight in people food, and decided men weren’t so bad after all. The secret was cheese.