I was recently requested to complete a self-descriptive profile and…..well, to be honest, I, intrepid writer and master of fiction that I am, found it difficult to do.
This was a first thought. The final deal was very different, but I think there’s something to this effort.
To borrow a line I heard recently, I wish I could be the person my dogs think I am.
This is not an unusual feeling for me.
Because of the rather unusual nature of my personality, there are times I find it hard to accept praise. I often feel embarrassed when others recognize those things I do right and am actually more comfortable hearing where I messed up.
Please don’t think I never mess up.
I see the light in those brown, “puppy-dog” eyes, when I’ve handed them a treat or let them out in the morning or even when I put them in their kennels when it’s time to go to work and I know they feel safe in my presence, protected and cared for.
It’s uncomfortable sometimes, because it’s the same light I’ve seen in the eyes of students and friends, of family and those I love most in this world. It’s a trust, an assurance that they know that I will do everything in my power to take care of them, that I will fight to the death to protect them.
And, with my personality and confidence, I put on a devil-may-care grin and swagger my way through the challenges of that day, leading my team to victory, albeit sometimes only victory of the moral variety. I’m not usually sure how we got to the winner’s circle and, when it comes time to celebrate, I don’t heap the laurel leaves of victory on my own brow. They don’t fit on me. They fit on the others. They belong on those who were made to wear them, while I stand in the background and beam with pride for their achievements, their accomplishments. And then they come back to me, shaking my head, patting me on the back, trust and love pouring out of them into me.
What my dogs (and all of those others) never see are those moments when I doubt. They don’t know the moments when I feel fear. They don’t realize that I am simply a flawed mortal, no different from them.
So, I wish I could be the person my dogs think I am.
