my cups of life

I drink my coffee from a flower decorated cup. Most of the time I have two of my dogs there to advise me.

Shylo, the black one, is attached to me like she was tied with a string. Normally she lays on top of the couch with her head next to the screen.

Lojack, the gray one, would be the same but the female asserts her dominance and he is content to be #2.

Most males come to that realization sooner or later.

This morning it dawned on me that I have lived most of my life through a flowered cup. I have not had the trials and tribulations that a lot of other humans have had.

It's not because I have always "done the right thing" or made "the right decisions".

It's because I have been lucky. I had two parents that raised me in a loving home. But it was more than that. They allowed my to make my own decisions. Of course there was the advice and the warnings and the "not in any way will we allow that" that helped keep me pretty close to the right trail.

When I went out on my own, I drank my coffee from a "Three Peckered Billy Goat" cup and seemed to always be just a little off track. Naturally that was after my parents were long away from advising me.

I knew it all.

Luckily, I broke that cup and found the flowered one.

However,I think that was around the time I married Nancy. Maybe she's the one that broke it.

Now, it's her influence and advice and "not in any way will I allow that" which keeps me on the straight and narrow.

"Just me and a dog named Lojack" might be the title for a good country and western song.


                                                                                                               gsbatty/August 2013