I learned one final life lesson from last year a few days ago.  Well, perhaps there were others after that too.

But still—one lesson I never expected.

You’re never too old to fall in love with a puppy that you can’t take home.

Yeah, I know.  I was surprised, too.  I suppose I shouldn’t be.  I’ve mentioned to you about the second childhood thing.  And the getting more sensitive thing.

But, one day last week, the Lovely Lady and I got into my truck with a few extra passengers to visit the mountaintop where our grandchildren live.  It takes over an hour to travel to their house, so I figured we’d have time to talk with our passengers on the way.

It turns out that, unlike me, they’re seasoned travelers who are better at planning their travel time than am I, so there were noise-canceling headphones and smartphones, along with a 900-page biography to be read, and instead of talking, my driving time was divided between counting skunk carcasses on the roadside and wondering why it is that all the churches in the little town of Sonora, Arkansas seem to be built right next to each other along the highway.

I might have thought about a few other things along the way.  But, I promise you, I wasn’t thinking I’d be sad on the trip home because I had to leave a sweet little girl pup I’d already named Cyclone (in my head, anyway) on top of that mountain.

She wasn’t the only cute pup there.  Others were bigger—or more playful—and perhaps, even more lovable.  But, this little girl just caught my eye.  And, my heart.

I looked at the Lovely Lady.  You know, with puppy-dog-eyes.  She knows me.  Before I opened my mouth, she knew what I was going to say.

“She is beautiful. But, you know what we decided.  Still, it’s up to you.”

It’s not like that time when I was a boy and wanted my own dog.  Then, the red-headed lady who raised me was kind about it, but closed the door completely on the idea.

“No.  It would be your dog, but I’d be the one feeding and watering it.  I’d have to bathe the beast and get the annual vaccinations.  Sorry.  The family dog will have to do.”

This wasn’t like that.  I’ve proved myself to this red-haired lady.  She knows I can be trusted to take care of the pup.

But, we’ve decided—mutually—that it’s not in our best interest to have pets anymore.  It wasn’t a decision we came to lightly.

The little girl stayed on the mountain with her litter-mates.  She’ll certainly find a home with a loving family before long.  Who could resist those eyes and that tornado-shaped coloration on her forehead?

Yet, all the way home I kept asking, “What if we tried . . .?”

And she didn’t say no to any of my ideas. . . well yeah—to a couple, she did.  I’m not always that logical when I want something I shouldn’t have.

I might be happier if she had said no outright.  Then I could blame her for my disappointment, instead of just being an adult and responsibly doing what I know is right in this situation.

But, I am going to do that.  Be responsible, I mean.

Somehow, I think my choice of a name for the puppy wasn’t just a coincidence, either.

Storms come by themselves in nature.  Sometimes, in our personal lives, we stir up the elements that cause the storms to gather strength and assail us.

I’m not saying little Cyclone would do that.  I’m saying we make decisions and set boundaries in life for valid reasons and often, overstepping those boundaries brings grief into our lives.  Even if we find ways to justify doing away with the limits we originally set.

Good is sometimes the enemy of excellent.

And sometimes, I forget how a team works and decide to do what I believe is good for me—to the team’s detriment.

Words come to my mind, a hippie mantra from the 1960s, that influenced many of my generation and more of those that have followed.

The free spirits back then said, “If it feels good, do it.”  As I think, I realize they’re still saying it today.

I won’t.

I’m a believer in another mantra, one I’d like to carry into the new year and the foreseeable future.

Excellence is worth pursuing.

Not as catchy as the hippies’, is it?

The Apostle, my namesake, was even more wordy in his exhortation.

“Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.” (Philippians 4:8, NLT)

Earlier in the missive, he suggested that we think of others as better than ourselves.  Before that, in one of his letters to the people at Corinth, he made it clear that we’re not to do good solely for ourselves, but constantly for others around us.

But, it was only a puppy. Which would have been a good thing, wouldn’t it?  I would never say opening your heart and home to a puppy was bad.

And yet. . .

Better—and more excellent—things await just ahead. Maybe even over the next mountaintop.

Oh.  So you know—I’m going to keep petting the puppies.

I just can’t take them home.

 

 

“Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” (Ann Landers)

“You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’—but not everything is good for you. You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’—but not everything is beneficial.  Don’t be concerned for your own good but for the good of others.”  (1 Corinthians 10:23-24, NLT)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.