It's those little moments that make you remember what you are missing.
Yesterday, we had some workmen come out to the house to give us an estimate on repairing the driveway.
Upon greeting them at the door and walking outside to review the job at hand, I left the front door slightly ajar. A few minutes into our discussion, I instinctively glanced at the front door.
I was expecting Joe.
I was expecting Joe to totter out the door and make more new friends. Even in his old age, he never missed an opportunity to greet someone or somedog.
Joe's personality was such that he, much like some of my beloved family members, had never once met a stranger.
Whether it was the bug man, the plumber, the painters, ServPro or Charley the Snake Guy (from DeLand), Joe insisted on greeting everyone by way of thorough inspection. I could usually tell if someone could be trusted - not just by how Joe acted - but, by how they reacted to Joe.
99.9% Of them would pet him and then proceed to tell me about their dog(s). Dog People have almost an inherent desire to trust other Dog People, so this is always a good ice breaker.
I was always wary if someone gave the side-eye to Joe. I mean, it's one thing not to like me - but Joe the Dog?!
If Joe gave the wag of approval, he could be expected to happily volunteer to help with whatever needed attention. Around the house bug inspection? No problem. Clean the pool? Right there. Paint? Of course. And feel free to retouch where me and my fur have gotten in the mix.
So. Joe didn't come out of the house expecting his new best friends.
I just transacted with the driveway folks and explained, "I used to have this dog."
My own instinct told me these were good guys. But. The thing is, Joe would've liked them, too.
I hope that I will always filter these things through the kind and optimistic lens of Joe the Dog.
Yesterday, we had some workmen come out to the house to give us an estimate on repairing the driveway.
Upon greeting them at the door and walking outside to review the job at hand, I left the front door slightly ajar. A few minutes into our discussion, I instinctively glanced at the front door.
I was expecting Joe.
I was expecting Joe to totter out the door and make more new friends. Even in his old age, he never missed an opportunity to greet someone or somedog.
Joe's personality was such that he, much like some of my beloved family members, had never once met a stranger.
Whether it was the bug man, the plumber, the painters, ServPro or Charley the Snake Guy (from DeLand), Joe insisted on greeting everyone by way of thorough inspection. I could usually tell if someone could be trusted - not just by how Joe acted - but, by how they reacted to Joe.
99.9% Of them would pet him and then proceed to tell me about their dog(s). Dog People have almost an inherent desire to trust other Dog People, so this is always a good ice breaker.
I was always wary if someone gave the side-eye to Joe. I mean, it's one thing not to like me - but Joe the Dog?!
If Joe gave the wag of approval, he could be expected to happily volunteer to help with whatever needed attention. Around the house bug inspection? No problem. Clean the pool? Right there. Paint? Of course. And feel free to retouch where me and my fur have gotten in the mix.
So. Joe didn't come out of the house expecting his new best friends.
I just transacted with the driveway folks and explained, "I used to have this dog."
My own instinct told me these were good guys. But. The thing is, Joe would've liked them, too.
I hope that I will always filter these things through the kind and optimistic lens of Joe the Dog.

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