So I'm driving back from our friends LoriAnn and Stephen's house after the Oscars with Sam (the dog) and Spencer (the adolescent.) Spencer and I are cackling with glee because finally... finally... we have run the dog into the ground.

It was quite a day for little Sammy poo. I say this with malice and glee. I started off taking him on a walk down through the park, to the bank and up to the pet store. I thought his little body would explode with joy when we were at the park, he was so ecstatic about being Out! in the Grass! With the People! and the Kids! Everything is an exclamation mark to a puppy.

But it got better for Sam. We went to the Bank! And his owner deposited some checks! And this nice man talked to him! And again he was goiong to explode with joy!

But THEN we went to the Pet Store! Oh my god. It was orgiastic. There were birds! and other puppies! And chew toys! And smells! And it was beyond exciting. It was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed about.

We had a big day set up for little Sam the dog. He didn't know it yet, but he really should have reigned in those exclamation marks early in the day. He was peaking at the park but he had a full FULL day ahead that he could've used to space everything out in.

But that's a human talking, isn't it? Don't peak early... you never know if it'll get better. Why waste all that joy, man. What if you just used it all up? That would suck. You'd use up all your joy and then what if something better happened? Maybe you wouldn't notice it if you had used it all up earlier. Maybe you'd jinx it and the thing you were happy with (the park) wasn't NEARLY as good as the pet store to come... and if you were TOO happy with the park, then maybe you wouldn't even GET to the pet store. Maybe the universe knows. And punishes us for all those used up exclamation marks.

That is sooooo human.

To Sam it's all fun. It's all wonderful. He was exploding with joy no matter what. And when I was cruel enough to pull him away from a particularly good smell or a great pile of leaves, he'd balk a little bit but then go on happily... the object of desire forgotten and the new adventures consuming him already.

After the walk, it was time to go to PetSmart for puppy training class. Oh BOY! It's a ride in the car! And then the big store! With even MORE puppies! And dogs! And cats! And oh my god, there he is again... totally drinking it in, wiggling with delight, barking and wagging and tripping out.

Exhausting for the humans, whose joy is always on a budget. Invigorating for the dog with an infinite balance.

The day continued. We went shopping afterwards. Even sitting on the cement in front of Best Buy was interesting. Look at all those shoes going by! Look at that little kid! So fun! So good!

Little did he know that after the shopping trip was Bath Time. Bath Time, I have to say, wasn't nearly as fun for him as everything else. During Bath Time he becomes a skinny, shivering, stoic little creature. His fluff is gone. He has spindley little legs. He has big brown eyes that look at us imploringly. But he toughed it out and managed to survive it, exploding as soon as he was rinsed off into a whirlwind of shaking and romping through the ivy and cavorting through the yard. Back to the exclamation marks, but this time in a cleaner, less, well, pungent way.

After the exercise and the excursions and the bath we had one more trick up our collective sleeves for little Sam. It was time to go to LoriAnn and Stephen's and introduce him to Lenny, the Beagle. Lenny, LoriAnn assured us, could deal with Sam's puppyness. As a beagle, Lenny should be able to go mano a mano with a hyper 4-month old. I was skeptical, but we were game. I put the boys and the still-damp dog in the car and hauled ourselves up to LoriAnn's.

The dogs rolled and fought and growled and established territory for about 5 hours straight. They occasionally took time outs but then were right back at it, chasing each other, wrestling, running through the sprinklers. There was no bloodshed and only one small accident on the inside carpet, but otherwise it was a festival of doggishness and boyhood. The three boys played, the two male dogs played, LoriAnn and I screamed at each other over the chaos and tried to outdo each other with catty comments about the Oscars.

And the topper was this: we knew we had out-done the puppy. We knew that we'd get no whines or wimpers or barks when we put Sam into the kitchen tonight. Ohhhhh no. We, the humans, had prevailed once again. We had beaten him into a tired, fluffy little submission.

As Spencer and I congratulated ourselves on this extreme triumph, I realized that this is exactly how it felt when Gavin and I had finally run Spencer into the ground, when he was two or three. We would start a day off, knowingly planning on doing everything possible to exhaust our child into a ragged pulp, while hopefully still standing upright ourselves at the end of the day. And yes, we would stagger a few steps before collapsing ourselves.. but those few steps were sweeeet. We had prevailed. Our child... our toddler... the center of our universe (all 40 pounds of him) was run ragged and we were alive to tell the tale.

I thought about this lovely irony, that Spencer and I could share this about the dog... and then it strikes me. I know exactly how Sam is feeling right now. I know exactly how it feels to be run ragged. So who is doing this to ME?

Just as I ran my kid ragged, and now my children and I run our dog ragged... who or what am I annoying so totally that it feels like it needs to run me ragged so IT can get some peace?

The universe. This overseer of mine. I don't call it god, but I sometimes joke with it as though I do. (If you can't joke with god, I reason, who can you joke with?) So the universe... the universe runs me ragged like this all the time. But why?

I think about why I get this glee over doing it to my kids (when they were small) and this little dog. Well, to be honest, because sometimes these little toddlers and puppies are really annoying. They whine and they complain and they don't do what I want them to. JEEZ, I say to myself. If you're going to be such a pain in the ass, I'm going to exert my greater superiority and run your butt into the ground until you just shut up long enough to give me some peace.

Hmmmm.

Maybe if I just did what the universe wanted me to from time to time -- instead of letting my inner toddler come out, with its whining and complaining and running around -- maybe I wouldn't have to be run ragged so much.

Innnteresting.

And maybe if I took a lesson from Sam and just enjoyed each moment... well, maybe it wouldn't be such a burdensome thing getting through all the projects that we manage to cram into one day. Maybe it'd just be a series of exclamation marks... with some shivering and discomfort, quickly forgotten.... followed by more exclamation marks.

I dunno about all this. It's a good thing to think about. And I think I'll contemplate it more tomorrow... because man, I am WHUPPED.

# posted by Katherine Doughtie Nolan @ 10:05 PM