Today was a long day, filled with lots of work, quick gift shopping, and a Christmas party. While I was busy busy busy my dog Lucy was at home, most likely napping on the couch.
As I walked into the house from the garage, I noticed she wasn’t standing right there to greet me. Instead, she was standing at a distance with her “nervous tail wag” and I knew something was wrong.
My suspicions were confirmed.
Lucy had gotten into the trash. Not only did she eat every little speck of food- including my pulled pork remains that were coated with fat, but she also helped herself to an entire bowl of bacon grease. Licked clean.
I put her outside, naughty little girl, and thought it was great that at least she didn’t get sick in the house.
I was wrong.
At I went to head to my room I noticed that she had thrown up in the hallway. All over my roommates closet door, and partially under it, too.
I started to wonder “why does she keep eating these things if they make her sick???”
I’m one to talk.
Thinking back on my day, as I’m laying here feeling ill, bloated, and miserable I can’t help but wonder the same about myself.
Most of the time, just like Lucy, I do fine. I eat what I know my body likes and avoid the rest. But, like a neurotic puppy who can’t get enough of the trash, once I start I just can’t stop.
Except I’m not a puppy. I’m a thinking and feeling somewhat intelligent human being. I know better and I have at least a little bit of self control.
Lets hope tomorrow is a better day and that I can keep out of the trash.