We must move beyond simply saying, “I’m sorry.”
We must figure out how to correct the situation and make it better.
It has been hot. I’m not good with numbers but I would say it has to be a gazillion degrees hot. A gazillion—that’s more biscuits than are in our entire house. That’s a big number.
I’ve decided to share part of a story from my book that was inspired by a miscalculation Steve made one hot day a few summers back. I think it’s a good reminder for those of you who have canine companions. Here it is from pages 86-88:
…There are times when humans just don’t know what it is like to be a dog. Even though they supposedly have superior intellect, there are a few topics I’d like to do some dogsplaining. Here is one they need help with.
I wish humans could walk in our paws for a day. Literally. Especially on a hot day. When they take us for a walk. On. Hot. Pavement. Let me give you an example.
One morning, Steve and I had just made our last visit at the place people come to stay and left the building to go home. We had brought smiles to a lot of people, and I got a few biscuits along the way. As we walked through the door, I could feel it immediately. From the cool inside to the hot outside. Ridiculously hot. Steve had parked the car in the big lot for cars. The big black lot. The big black and hot lot….
I pride myself on my toughness. But on that day, my paws were feeling the sizzle of the black and hot lot. I pulled Steve toward the first car I saw…He did not understand my signal. I dutifully followed his lead but with each step my paw pads were starting to sting. I wish I could have yelled, Hey, my paws are burning up!
I eventually had to take the leash into my own paws. I pulled hard left to a patch of grass that was behind the parked cars. I looked at Steve. He returned my gaze. I think he finally got it.
He followed me to the grass. From there we navigated to the car. I jumped in, stretched out on the back seat, and felt cold air blowing from the front. Much better.
When we got home, Steve was rubbing me down like he usually does. I rolled over for a much-needed belly rub. And that is when he saw my paws.
“Oh, Roxie, I am sorry. That’s why you were pulling me. Your paws look a little rough. I wasn’t fast enough.”
…The next day we visited a nice lady who examined my paws, suggested some lotion to rub on them, and told Steve I would be OK. Nothing serious, though there were a few raw spots. She suggested he get me some paw coverings.
Steve called them socks…They felt nice and soft, but I was not used to anything on my paws. Kind of constricting if you know what I mean. Steve showed patience and slowed our pace so we could get around the park.
My paws quickly healed, and the socks were washed and placed in the same drawer as my Garnasium biscuits. (Not sure I mentioned it before, but I have upstairs biscuits, bedroom biscuits, and Garnasium biscuits. Steve controls the delivery. But I know where they are.)
On hot days now, our afternoon walks have been postponed to later in the day when it’s cooler. And he keeps me on grass or dirt.
On that day in the parking lot, Steve had made a mistake, and he learned a valuable lesson. He never made that mistake again.
I am glad that he pays attention and is a quick study.
Beyond the Biscuit
Making a mistake is easy to do. Admitting to that mistake, learning from it, and not repeating it, can be more difficult. We must move beyond simply saying, “I’m sorry.” We must figure out how to correct the situation and make it better. When was the last time you made a mistake and owned it? What lesson did you learn? Why do you think it is difficult for some people to admit their mistakes?
Thank you for sharing my blog with your friends.
In my new book, Roxie Looks for Purpose Beyond the Biscuit, I share stories and lessons about friends, family, and fun. Perhaps it holds a biscuit or two for you!