I like to think of myself as a wild and ferocious doggie.
I visualize myself as a small dog that has successfully overcome great obstacles to be where I am today. I bark in the face of danger, I do the stiff legged grass scratch thing after each trip outside, and I regularly assign my rope toys to an early retirement. I expertly patrol my house and yard on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. Hey, you don’t see any purple elephants in the area, do you? Yeah, see. I’m good.
Anyhooooo….Not so ferocious it turns out. First chapters of Jack London's White Fang have given me a wakeup call to the realities for my much bigger cousins in the wild:
I do not live outside, in horrific weather;
I do not work hard pulling a sled;
I do not fend off wolves on a nightly basis;
I do not have to outwit and hunt down my food just to survive; and
I do not suffer in a world where a victory for me is a defeat for another.
I do have to keep Mom reading this story to me, though.
I NEED to know what’s going to happen next!
^ . . ^