Best Day Ever

There are lots of jokes and stories that capitalize on the idea that dogs, in their seemingly endless optimism and enthusiastic belief that practically every moment of their existence is the best of its kind. I’ve never lived with a dog as my consistent companion, but I’ve been around other people’s dogs, and seen the people owned by some additional dogs, and it all tends to confirm that quality of canine character. And frankly, that seems to me to be a perfect attitude to emulate, whether you belong to a dog or not.digital illustration

I may not have the sort of tail that lends itself to wagging with happiness at life’s goodness and I certainly am not the kind to show my appreciation for such things by jumping up to lick anybody on the ear, but I should at the very least state my admiration for what is fine and good and pleasing so that they can know how highly I esteem such gifts. Life, no matter how a dog might enthuse over it, isn’t perfect, and it has its flaws and less than ideal moments. So when the great and admirable happens, I should jolly well share the happiness and let others in on it. Short of barking and running around in circles dizzily, I think that can be appropriately expressed in ways that let other humans in on the secret.digital illustration

Happiness, whether doggy or human, is best shared, after all. And from what I’ve seen, when dogs and humans can be happy all together, that can be quite the extravaganza of joy indeed. If you feel like it, go ahead and lean back and let out a nice little howl or two of celebration right along with me, and I’ll race you to the sidewalk and back!

What if I Never Grow Up?

digitally doctored photoAside from the fact that all of you know already that this is a given rather than a question, I can still pose it rhetorically and ask it of all people in general. See, I think about this a fair amount, and not just because of my own level of maturity at any given time or in any given category. It’s simply a question we all get asked in one way or another at some point, or should jolly well ask ourselves, at the least.

This marvelous Möbius loop of inquiry and insistence begins the first time we are told, as children, that we need to Grow Up, and it can be applied to any number of circumstances. The irony that this mandate is almost invariably handed down to us by a person or persons barely older and more grown than ourselves is of course lost on all of the parties involved, because we’re all too inexperienced and naive and, conversely, too full of ourselves to understand it. The bigger kid tells the littler kid to Grow Up mainly because the elder wants something that the younger has or has simply lost patience with her.

It doesn’t change. When we’re older, the toys and privileges may have changed to different brands of money and power, but as long as we think someone else has more of whichever kind we desire than we do, we’re just as inclined in adulthood to nit-pick at that someone for his supposedly lower maturity levels both as cover for our covetousness and in shallow hopes of shaming him into being more generous than we are ourselves. The failure of this silly system doesn’t change either, but it doesn’t stop the less magnanimous and less mature from nagging at those who are more so, no matter the age or the occasion.

There are perfectly good reasons to wish anybody, including ourselves, would think and act with maturity and keen sense and the wisdom of experience. Those things tend to lead to our being more level-headed in emergencies, more practical in the everyday, and more inclined to share those traits and all sorts of other things with other people–and that leads to better community. Who knows, even World Peace.

But isn’t it grand, all the same, to forever retain a large enough pinch of immaturity and, if not childishness, then at least the ability to be childlike, that we can still look at the wide world with the awe and wonder it requires. We should hang on, with youthful enthusiasm and gleeful tenaciousness, to innocence and hope, to curiosity and rambunctiousness, to unalloyed silliness whenever the moment permits. Maybe we should even be willing to get down there with the actual kids and roll around in the grass once in a while without batting an eye over how dirty it’ll get us or whether it might make our old joints sore tomorrow. If we can’t still do somersaults, then we’d better find other ways to regain and retain our not at all grown up point of view, because the world, especially while it’s still short of outright Peace, can really use a healthy splash of the ridiculous now and again.