The days of our lives can lead to restless nights. All the bullshit that goes into tolerating the people of the world can be stressful and tiring. If the ultimate goal is happiness, then it’s probably best to figure out what exactly it is that brings you joy and chase it down.
But most of us don’t.
We get older. We get strapped to bank accounts and due dates. We make exceptions and decide it’s part of growing up. We’re quiet when we should be standing up for ourselves. We accept hierarchy as a rule while questioning the qualifications of everyone above us.
There is one creature who seems to have a few things figured out. My friend Woody Allen Shipley Green a.k.a. Woody the Dog. His existence is filled with three primary activities. Eating. Playing. Sleeping. All three seem to give him a tremendous amount of satisfaction.
He’ll go along with just about anything as long as there are no skateboarders or marching bands nearby. He’s loyal, friendly and always ready to cuddle. And as we just discovered, he loves to chew on antlers.
So while I’m trying to figure out how to be more like my dog, the clock is ticking. Today will probably be a lot like yesterday and the one before that, but at least I know where to look for inspiration. He’s in a ball, in his bed ready for anything—as long as it’s eating, playing or sleeping.