It’s the dog’s fault.

They were the first words I muttered to the optician as I approached her work station earlier this week.  I was wearing an old pair of wire-rimmed glasses from the last decade—or was it the last century?—as I pulled the stainless steel and fabric chair out from beneath the mirrored desk.

The dog’s fault.  You would have thought I was an abashed student in sixth grade slouching in front of the entire class, rubbing the toe of my Converse sneaker across the linoleum tile floor.

Why no, Mrs. Dunham; I don’t have my English paper.  It was all ready to bring this morning but my dog ate it.

In truth, I don’t think I ever used that excuse for missing homework, but you can bet, if the homework was missing, it wasn’t my fault.  Ever.

Not my fault!

My glasses were broken.  Just a few months ago, the optometrist had handed me the prescription for my glasses while telling me he didn’t think I needed to have it filled.

You don’t need new glasses at all right now.  Keep the prescription, though.  You know—just in case.

This is just in case.  I played fetch with the big black lab last week, hurling the chunk of wood to the fence again and again.  The big guy never tires of the game.  Not before I do, anyway.

This day, he had dropped the stick to the ground in front of me.  I bent over him to pick it up at exactly the instant he chose to jump up and playfully lick me.

Thwack!

The top of his big flat skull smacked my glasses frame, jamming it against my left eye.  I yelped and grabbed my falling glasses, feeling the frame give as I caught them.

Broken!  Stupid Tip!

Hand over my eye, I turned to scold the tenderhearted fellow.  I opened my mouth to shout, but thought better of it.  He was just being a dog—still a big puppy despite his advancing age. 

I’m the one who should have known better.  He always jumps when I’m near.  I’ve finally convinced him not to put his huge muddy feet on me, but still he jumps constantly.  If my face is bent over him when he jumps, it’s not his fault.

I know that.  My fault. 

Still, the excuse is easy.

The optician laughed as she fitted the temple pieces over my ears.  She gets paid, no matter whose fault it is.

And, we all know whose fault it is, don’t we?

And, we all know whose fault it is, don't we? Share on X

Why is it so hard to admit when we’re wrong? 

Why must we find a scapegoat? 

What’s so hard about taking responsibility?

I know I’m a hard-headed slow learner—okay, not as hard-headed as the dog, but you get the picture—who has to learn lessons again and again, but I also have a very short memory.  Really short.

Moments after I sat at the optician’s table, I sat, horn on lap and new glasses on my face, in an afternoon orchestra rehearsal.  One of the youngsters nearby said something about my new eye-wear.

They are good looking, aren’t they?  I think they’re a nice gray color. The Lovely Lady says they’re more blue.  (Don’t tell her they say “blue” right on the frames.  We still need to discuss this a bit more.)

Imagine my surprise when I heard the words come from my mouth. 

Yeah, I’m glad I decided to get them.  I’ve needed new glasses for awhile.

Oh.  So now I’m going to take responsibility?  A few minutes ago it was the dog’s fault. 

You know, this isn’t going at all in the manner I envisioned it.  I was going to draw your attention to the way we humans refuse to take responsibility.  Then, I was going to quote some Bible verses at you to drive home the reality of how prideful we are. 

It was going to be a beautiful sermon—I mean—lesson.  A beautiful lesson.

I never expected to be the one who needed the Bible verses.  I certainly didn’t expect to be the one who needed to break Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ Rule Number Six.  You know, the one about never apologizing, because it’s a sign of weakness.

In retrospect, I think perhaps you should know that the dog ate my first draft of this article.  That’s the reason it’s not going the way I wanted.  I hope you’ll give me more time to finish it.

The dog did it. 

Really.

 

Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.
(1 Corinthians 10:12 ~ NKJV ~Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.)

 

The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely to be the one who dropped it.
(Lou Holtz ~ American football coach/motivational speaker)

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2019. All Rights Reserved.