“And you have those two perfectly behaved pointers,” she said.
If a picture’s worth a thousand words, sometimes a sentence is worth a thousand expressions.
I hesitated slightly, my face twisted this way and that, as I contemplated how to best accept the compliment. I’ve gotten way better at accepting compliments, but a big part of working on my life over the past couple of decades is living truthfully. Living truthfully means setting the record straight in the kindest way possible, and not letting the untruths sit and fester.
One of the things I told myself when I started drinking again was that I would tell the truth to the best of my ability. Obviously I can’t be everywhere and everything to everyone, so sometimes, I’d have to trust what others told me as the truth.
Which begs the question, what are the times when it’s better to let someone sit in their reality? Should I always worry about setting the record straight? And it can you always still be honest and kind when working toward that goal?
Because the thing is, they aren’t perfect. And she didn’t mean they are perfect. She meant she was impressed with what she sees in them, in the limited experience she has seeing them and expressed that to me with kindness.
Vonnegut is still wild—he’s a few months shy of three, which is still puppy phase for the GSP. But he’s good, he’s smart, he’s joyful, and he wants to please.
And Joey is a sexy senior. Considering the terrible situation into which she was born, she’s come out the other side and come into herself. She’s sweet, she’s intuitive, she’s on doggy prozac, and she wants to be loved.
That’s the truth. Like anyone or anything can, they do the best to be the best versions of themselves. Dogs don’t care about perfect, that’s a human condition. They make a mistake and get over it. Misjudge a throw, bring the ball back and request another toss.
“They have their moments,” I said and smiled as I launched into all the adjectives that begin to describe these kids.