Wiley's Wisdom

Joy: From the Ground Up

The Proverbial Dog House July 28, 2014

There really is no excuse for what happened this morning. One minute I was happily exploring my the subconscious otherwise known as my personal dreamland (which today was filled with peanut butter rolled in bacon). The next minute, my tail was being pulled HARD, effectively bringing my delicious dreamy feast to a startling end. And what happened next is something I can’t take back.

I gave dear baby Carter three tries to back away from the tail. One small snarl, followed by a slightly louder and more fierce snarl, followed by the angry nip. It all happened so fast. I didn’t know the third tug came from mom’s hand instead of Carter’s. Clearly she was testing me to gauge my reaction the third time. And I failed. Miserably. Say a Little Prayer

My reaction wasn’t nearly fierce enough to hurt mom, but I realized moments later in the bitter aftermath it probably could have hurt Carter. Pretty badly, in fact. Because mom was mad. And by mad, I mean she was yelling and screaming at me like I’ve never seen her yell and scream at me before. Ever. “BAD DOG, WILEY!” she yelled. “BAD DOG! BAD DOG! BAD DOG! THAT COULD HAVE BEEN CARTER’S FACE!” It went on and on for what seemed like an eternity. I think people forget sometimes that we move along in our minds well before we do in our hearts. But that’s neither here nor there.

The truth is simple. I screwed up. I wasn’t thinking, but that is no excuse. There is no excuse for what happened this morning. And there is punishment in knowing I can never take back that moment. I have to earn back the trust of my dear forever mom, which is something I held so dear. But that’s not even the worst of it. The worst of it is not the anger or the yelling. It’s the disappointment. I could see it in her eyes (which almost instantaneously welled up with tears) and I could hear it in her voice. She was disappointed in me. And that is truly heartbreaking.

But today, as I recommit and ask God for better patience with the ever-more-mobile dear baby Carter, I pause to reflect on the words of well-known American politician Martin Luther King Jr., who said “there can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.”

Thank goodness for that because I think I’ll be spending a little time in the proverbial dog house for a while.

 

A Night In the Life

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 8:30 pm

Wiley Schmidt:

On sleep and sleep-related things.

Originally posted on Wiley's Wisdom:

There is a lot to be thankful for about mornings. Every day the sun rises is a blessing. I have mixed emotions about the birds outside the bedroom window that seem to chirp a little earlier each morning, but I do give them credit for always catching the worm. So it might come to a surprise to some people that I would definitely describe myself as a night doggie.

In the mornings when my forever people get ready to go to that place called work I stay in a semi-sleep haze state until they both leave and I enjoy my morning nap. I sleep the majority of most days. When I wake, I daydream.

It’s my people time. It doesn’t matter if we’re all cuddled on the couch, playing pickle in the middle (even though I am always the pickle), or they are keeping me company while I blog: our time in…

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A Trip Takes Us July 27, 2014

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 8:52 pm

It’s kind of like a duvet cover. Or tennis shoes. Or clothes. These are some of the people things in life I can’t say I’ve ever fully understood. But alas, they are commonplace in my forever home (and homes throughout my beloved United States of America I presume), so I have come to know these items as part of normalcy. Wiley Car Ride

Then there’s the emotional things. Like when mom was pregnant and would cry at the drop of a hat (which, if I’m being honest hasn’t changed very much). Or when dad compulsively trades things (I think he’s owned about 32 softball bats since he got back into the game about a year ago).

Or like last night. When dear auntie Morgan met up with her ex-boyfriend of quite a few years for closure. Nothing at all about that made sense to me. To me, it sounded like an accident waiting for a place to happen. To me, it sounded like a disaster. To me, it sounded like heartbreak. None of these things are anything I would ever wish on a loved one.

But it happened nonetheless, and I while I am surprised by the outcome I am even more surprised by the lesson that outcome has brought into my heart. Closure. From the ground up, it’s something I’ve never really experienced firstpaw. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my birth mom and brothers the fateful day I lost them. I didn’t get to give a farewell snuggle to dear little Jo before the man with the leather belt abandoned me on the side of the road. I’ve had issues with things coming to an end before I get to accept they have.

So when I heard about this whole closure thing, I was wary. I didn’t want her to get hurt taking a swing at something that has in my life never even been an option. But she swung anyway and apparently it was a worthwhile effort. Which makes me think maybe there is something to this whole idea of closure. I suppose the words of American author John Steinbeck ring true in this (and many) cases.

“A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless,” suggested Steinbeck. “We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.”

From duvet covers to the latest fashions, I know there are a lot of things I deem unnecessary in life. But when it comes to the importance of closure, maybe I’ve been missing out all these years. And, if so, I chose today to fix that. Today I accept the things I cannot change and embrace the future without the burden of things past. Because this trip has taken me and I have nothing left to do but enjoy the ride.

 

Seeing is Believing

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 8:35 pm

Wiley Schmidt:

Mom loses her glasses once a week. Such is life.

Originally posted on Wiley's Wisdom:

I look around my house all the time, but today I found myself counting the blessings of the words all around me.

“Life is not measured by the breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away” hangs over my beloved bay window.

“Simplify” graces one of the end tables by my favorite spot on the couch.

“Live, laugh, love,” hangs above the kitchen sink where I frequently steal any and every scrumptious morsel that falls to the ground.

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do, are in perfect harmony” hangs in the hallway where dad throws my toys for me to fetch.

These messages are all such fantastic reminders of what it means to be alive, and yet I live most of my days without giving them a second glance.

Sight is funny that way. I’ve noted before how familiarity…

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Tell Me You Love Me July 26, 2014

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 9:03 pm

It happens at the most random of moments sometimes. There I will be in the living room or on the bed or outside and she will say it. “I love you Wiley!” Usually there is an impending love fest to follow as well. You know, the kind with lots of pets in all my favorite places (like behind the ears and on my belly). And if I’m being honest, it catches me off guard sometimes. Don't Worry, Be Happy

Like tonight, when it happened (as it always does) my dear forever mom said something kind of startling in addition to the norm. “I love you Wiley. Do I tell you that enough?” Of course you do, I thought. Truth be told, she says it all the time. Multiple times a day at least, I would say. To me, to dad, and to dear baby Carter. And I never tire of hearing it, so I certainly know the obvious answer to the question. It’s like asking why the chicken crossed the road. (To which, I say the answer is to get to the bacon, but that is just my opinion.)

Yes, my dear forever mom. Yes, you say you love me enough. Not only that, you show me you love me. Sometimes that’s even better than saying so. But the more I thought about it, I realized the answer to what seems like an obvious question isn’t always yes.

I know (because I lived it in a prior life) that sometimes people don’t say they love each other (or me for that matter). They don’t kiss each other goodnight. And they certainly don’t snuggle. Or maybe they do. But then that one day comes along when they don’t. Maybe they had an argument the night before. Or maybe they argue all the time. None of that matters when life is as short as it is. You never know when it might be the last time you see someone. It could be the last chance you have to tell them you love them.

Around here it happens at the most random of moments sometimes. But today I was reminded that is exactly as it should be. And you can’t say it enough.

 

Dreaming Out Loud

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 8:47 pm

Wiley Schmidt:

I miss my buddy Indy since he left for Minnesota.

Originally posted on Wiley's Wisdom:

I’ve noticed a trend in popular music of today involving a reverie for the younger years in life. Every song tells a story of its writer, who was inspired by any variation of emotional situations. The Lumineers tell us to keep our heads up and remember when we were young in “Stubborn Love.” Fun. suggests we are young “so let’s set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun.” Lyrics like these bring to poetry to life.

Looking UpEvery now and then it happens to me too. I’ll be going about my day sleeping in my doggie bed, monitoring the neighborhood from my perch in the bay window, or playing with my forever people and BAM! Poetry comes to life before me. I blame author and poet Susan G. Wooldridge for this (dare I say) habit of mine. It’s no secret I’m a lover of words, but I’m also a believer in…

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Something Fairly Precious July 25, 2014

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 8:46 pm

I’m not going to lie to you. It was one of those things I had come to expect as a given in my life. As one of those things you simply don’t worry about any more. And then came dear baby Carter. From our sleeping patterns to our daily life, his arrival has changed so much about what I thought I knew as routine in my forever home.Mom and I on the lake

It simply is not the same anymore. And some days I am a little bitter about that. As a six-year-old terrier mix these days, I question anything that messes with what I have come to know as standard around here. I don’t see anything wrong with this behavior, since I feel I have earned the right in my (relatively) old age to do such things.

Then along came Carter, who has completely thrown everything about life as I knew it on its axis. I can’t say all the changes have been negative (having mom home at more random times throughout the week has certainly been a plus), but I also can’t say all have been positive.

I struggle daily with how to appropriately deal with Carter’s ever-evolving mobility. I thought I would be ready. Well, I’m not. At almost seven months old he is almost beyond crawling. Instead he is pulling himself up on whatever vertical surface he sees, trying to stand up. While I can’t say I blame him, what seems to be a fabulously great thing terrifies me at the same time. And I know mom feels the same way because she consistently tries (and fails) to get him to snuggle like he used to.

It was only a few months ago that the child would cry the second he wasn’t being held. Now he cries and wiggles if he is. And, at least from my perspective, it’s infuriating.

So I’m not going to lie to you. It bothers me this is something I’ve come to expect as the norm in my family. I love snuggles, and wish I could impart my wisdom on dear baby Carter. And I will. But until then I found I have something fairly precious of my own.

I have my own snuggle time with mom. It’s the time she (for a few weeks until a couple of months ago) used to snuggle Carter in the early morning. Now he doesn’t like that time as much as he used to, so I stepped in. And it’s one of the best things I’ve done.

Because I know the joy it brings me, but I also know the joy it brings mom. I might not be Carter, and I know I never will be. But I too have pretty stellar snuggling capabilities that (God-willing) will be around well beyond when Carter graduates from primary school. The least I can do is spread the joy with one of life’s most important people in my book.

 

 
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