Here is a story I received about a dog's zest for life, I thought it was really cute and has a great moral.
> > Zest for Life (author unknown, except for his
> insight and love of his
> > dog)
>
> Don't take this the wrong way, but for the
> longest time now, I have
> > been trying to imitate my
> dog. Not his look, which is furry and chestnut
> > brown.
> Not his walk, which, as with most Golden Retrievers,
> is more of a
> > waddle. And not his tail. I don't need a
> tail. I have enough trouble
> > buckling my pants as it
> is.
>
> Also, I can live without his bathroom
> habits,
> > which can be summed up this way: "Tree or
> bush? Tree or bush? Aw, how about
> > right here on the
> grass..."
>
> No, what I admire about my dog is
> > his
> fascination with the simple routine of life. Every day
> for him is like
> > boarding the space shuttle.
>
> For example, in the morning, I tumble out of
> > bed,
> grumble, yawn, open the door, and ta-da! There he is,
> the canine answer
> > to Richard Simmons. He is so worked
> up, he doesn't know which way to go,
> > toward me or away
> from me. So he does both. "Oh boy-oh boy-oh boy!" he
> seems
> > to pant.
>
> "It's morning and I'm gonna eat!" Never
> mind that he has eaten
> > every morning since he was
> born. Or that he's had the same food every
> > morning
> since he was born - and that was 11 years ago. Never
> mind. He pulls
> > me downstairs and waits breathlessly as
> I scoop yet another helping of
> > boring brown nuggets
> into his bowl. "Oh boy-oh boy-oh boy! Food!
> > Food!
> Food!" I yawn.
>
> Three minutes later, he is off the food thing and
> > into
> a new obsession: going out. Again, he runs forward and backward. "I'm
> > going out! I'm going out! Is this great
> or what?" Never mind that going out
> > has not changed
> one bit since we've lived here. He is so thrilled by
> the
> > notion of "exit" that he almost bites that
> doorknob off. He bolts into the
> > backyard as if heading
> for Tomorrow-land with a sack full of "E" tickets.
> > I
> slouch and yawn again. The great outdoors.
>
> Then comes the "bathroom"
> > routine, which I
> already have described. Humans deal with these
> functions
> > begrudgingly. Not my dog. It's a real thrill
> for him. He scouts for the
> > perfect spot as if looking
> for beach-front real estate. "Tree or bush? Tree
> > or
> bush?" And I don't have that many trees.
>
> Then, once his business is
> > taken care of -
> and I make a mental note where we're going to have to
> shovel
> > come summer - he is off the going out obsession
> and onto a new one: going
> > back in. It doesn't matter
> that he was in just two minutes ago. "Things
> > have
> changed! Things have changed!" he seems to pant. "I
> gotta get in there!
> > I gotta check it out! Hurry up,
> hurry up!" When I open the door, he bolts
> > in, races
> back and forth - looking for space aliens, I suppose -
> and when he
> > doesn't find any, he isn't disappointed.
> Instead, he snarls at some ratty
> > toy he's played with
> for months, throws it into the air with his teeth,
> > and
> watches it land. "Look at that!" he seems to say. "It
> goes up, it comes
> > down!"
>
> As I make a cup of coffee, he jumps up to
> watch. "Watcha doin?
> > Watcha doin? Coffee, huh? That's
> amazing!"
> When I disappear behind a door,
> > he lies
> down outside and waits for me to come out again. If it
> is only 30
> > seconds later, he will still react as if I
> were a hostage released after ten
> > years.
>
> Now, my dog does not work. He does not pay taxes. He
> does not create
> > anything new (unless you consider what
> is in the bushes outside). But he
> > also doesn't need
> clothes, doesn't covet cars or jewelry, and doesn't
> care
> > about houses, as long as he can find a sunny spot
> on the floor to lie there
> > for a few hours.
>
> Meanwhile, I am bored with my same
> routine. Getting up is
> > a drag. I can't get excited
> about breakfast. And going out, then coming back
> > in
> only makes me wonder how many flies I've let in.
> So I'm trying to imitate
> > my dog. I'm trying to find
> wonder in the everyday. After all, when you
> > think
> about it, it is pretty remarkable that you open your
> eyes each
> > morning. And since every few hours you get
> to quench your hunger, well,
> > that's a thrill, when you
> consider the alternative. So while I don't want
> > to
> match my dog's drool, I am trying to match his zeal.
> And you know, come
> > to think of it, that sunny spot on
> the floor looks pretty
> > tempting.
> > Zest for Life (author unknown, except for his
> insight and love of his
> > dog)
>
> Don't take this the wrong way, but for the
> longest time now, I have
> > been trying to imitate my
> dog. Not his look, which is furry and chestnut
> > brown.
> Not his walk, which, as with most Golden Retrievers,
> is more of a
> > waddle. And not his tail. I don't need a
> tail. I have enough trouble
> > buckling my pants as it
> is.
>
> Also, I can live without his bathroom
> habits,
> > which can be summed up this way: "Tree or
> bush? Tree or bush? Aw, how about
> > right here on the
> grass..."
>
> No, what I admire about my dog is
> > his
> fascination with the simple routine of life. Every day
> for him is like
> > boarding the space shuttle.
>
> For example, in the morning, I tumble out of
> > bed,
> grumble, yawn, open the door, and ta-da! There he is,
> the canine answer
> > to Richard Simmons. He is so worked
> up, he doesn't know which way to go,
> > toward me or away
> from me. So he does both. "Oh boy-oh boy-oh boy!" he
> seems
> > to pant.
>
> "It's morning and I'm gonna eat!" Never
> mind that he has eaten
> > every morning since he was
> born. Or that he's had the same food every
> > morning
> since he was born - and that was 11 years ago. Never
> mind. He pulls
> > me downstairs and waits breathlessly as
> I scoop yet another helping of
> > boring brown nuggets
> into his bowl. "Oh boy-oh boy-oh boy! Food!
> > Food!
> Food!" I yawn.
>
> Three minutes later, he is off the food thing and
> > into
> a new obsession: going out. Again, he runs forward and backward. "I'm
> > going out! I'm going out! Is this great
> or what?" Never mind that going out
> > has not changed
> one bit since we've lived here. He is so thrilled by
> the
> > notion of "exit" that he almost bites that
> doorknob off. He bolts into the
> > backyard as if heading
> for Tomorrow-land with a sack full of "E" tickets.
> > I
> slouch and yawn again. The great outdoors.
>
> Then comes the "bathroom"
> > routine, which I
> already have described. Humans deal with these
> functions
> > begrudgingly. Not my dog. It's a real thrill
> for him. He scouts for the
> > perfect spot as if looking
> for beach-front real estate. "Tree or bush? Tree
> > or
> bush?" And I don't have that many trees.
>
> Then, once his business is
> > taken care of -
> and I make a mental note where we're going to have to
> shovel
> > come summer - he is off the going out obsession
> and onto a new one: going
> > back in. It doesn't matter
> that he was in just two minutes ago. "Things
> > have
> changed! Things have changed!" he seems to pant. "I
> gotta get in there!
> > I gotta check it out! Hurry up,
> hurry up!" When I open the door, he bolts
> > in, races
> back and forth - looking for space aliens, I suppose -
> and when he
> > doesn't find any, he isn't disappointed.
> Instead, he snarls at some ratty
> > toy he's played with
> for months, throws it into the air with his teeth,
> > and
> watches it land. "Look at that!" he seems to say. "It
> goes up, it comes
> > down!"
>
> As I make a cup of coffee, he jumps up to
> watch. "Watcha doin?
> > Watcha doin? Coffee, huh? That's
> amazing!"
> When I disappear behind a door,
> > he lies
> down outside and waits for me to come out again. If it
> is only 30
> > seconds later, he will still react as if I
> were a hostage released after ten
> > years.
>
> Now, my dog does not work. He does not pay taxes. He
> does not create
> > anything new (unless you consider what
> is in the bushes outside). But he
> > also doesn't need
> clothes, doesn't covet cars or jewelry, and doesn't
> care
> > about houses, as long as he can find a sunny spot
> on the floor to lie there
> > for a few hours.
>
> Meanwhile, I am bored with my same
> routine. Getting up is
> > a drag. I can't get excited
> about breakfast. And going out, then coming back
> > in
> only makes me wonder how many flies I've let in.
> So I'm trying to imitate
> > my dog. I'm trying to find
> wonder in the everyday. After all, when you
> > think
> about it, it is pretty remarkable that you open your
> eyes each
> > morning. And since every few hours you get
> to quench your hunger, well,
> > that's a thrill, when you
> consider the alternative. So while I don't want
> > to
> match my dog's drool, I am trying to match his zeal.
> And you know, come
> > to think of it, that sunny spot on
> the floor looks pretty
> > tempting.
it describes each and everyone of my dogs lol.
