Musings
My late, great dog, Trotsky, was riding shotgun in my convertible one brilliant summer's morning. I had purchased coffee to take home, and Trotsky was carrying his traditional bagel, which was the bribe I paid him for not running into the coffee shop and simply taking what he wanted.
His tendency was to save the bagel until we got home and to eat in it in the back yard or at the pool. He apparently needed a better grip, and he tossed it in his mouth attempting to secure it, but didn't compensate for the moving car. The bagel fell into the road. Trotsky, a 100-pound Shepherd/Husky mix, actually moaned.
I did what any of you would have done, of course. I got him another bagel.
I'm wondering, staring at the Venezuelan coast from Curacao this afternoon, if animals have regrets. I watch the pelicans dive repeatedly for fish, usually empty-beaked after their crash landings. Are they feeling, "Darn, another one got away!" (Or when they do catch a fish, do the rest of the fish wonder what happened to their buddy?)
I don't know if animals contemplate death, but I do believe they know when they are dying. I would also think that they have no self-pity. Dogs are famously stoic about pain (just ask any veterinarian). They get on with their lives. They simply don't waste time feeling sorry for themselves.
I recently spoke for Toyota, one of my clients. During the introduction to the day, the vice president running the meeting introduced one of the field people. I had met him before. He described calmly his several bouts with cancer, the loss of his leg, agonizing operations, and times he thought he would not again awake. Yet, he pointed out, here he was, going about his job, hoping for the best, and trying to get used to his prosthesis.
He suggested that no matter how difficult a client was to deal with, no matter how unfair the competition, and no matter what the tribulations of travel, if he could get through his travails, the audience could probably get through theirs.
We can't go around moaning and groaning with every setback. There is no one to buy another bagel for us. We need to say, "Oh, well, lesson learned, I'm smarter now." Otherwise, the pelicans would starve and the fish would be afraid to go anywhere.
Self-awareness (Abraham Maslow's self-actualization, and Rheinhold Niebuhr's self-transcendence) isn't meant to be the ability to reflect on and to fear for our lives. It should be the unique sentience which allows us to improve our lives and the lives around us. The alternative to a positive view of life is too depressing to entertain.
Oh, yes. In the future, Trotsky ate his bagels immediately.
ORTIYKMWOYBNT-O Department
A couple of weeks ago, just prior to Mother's Day, I returned from a client south of Los Angeles by taking the "red eye" back to Boston on Thursday night, because Saturday morning my wife and I were leaving for vacation in the Turks & Caicos Islands. My flight landed in Boston at 7:30 Friday morning, and the limo got me home by 9. Thus, I had a full day to clean up the mail, do some odd jobs around the house, pack, and be ready for our 5 am ride to the Providence Airport on Saturday morning.
At about 10:15 Friday morning, my wife asked me for the phone number of the resort. I pulled out the travel instructions and copied the number. Just before returning them to my briefcase, I noticed an advisory: "Fly into Curacao International Airport." I froze, knowing enough geography to realize the Curacao is a different island entirely, and not very close to Turks. With a pain like an ice cream headache hitting me smack between the eyes, I called my travel agent. She had arranged the flights on my instructions, because we were visiting one of our time share partners in, I had thought, Turks & Caicos.
"Yup," she confirmed, two different places. For some reason we still do not know, I had booked a time-share week on Curacao but made plane reservations to Turks.
Flying to Curacao the next morning on a radically different route scrambled together which featured a dashing 40-minute connection in Newark, my wife and I were alone in first class. She looked at me after we were aloft and asked, "So, what would you have done if we had flown to Turks and there was no time-share resort and there were no accommodations?"
"Easy," I said. "We would have purchased a home and I would claim it was a present for Mother's Day."