. The courteous were welcomed in society because they displayed gracious manners, educated opinions, and the ability to listen to those with differing views. behavior had no place in polite society.
And in the canine upper-class world, Angel was expected to excel in social graces. After all, she possessed papers verifying her noble Shih Tzu bloodlines. But because she is only human—whoops, canine—she had to learn the hard way how to navigate in the big, bad world.
Rule # 1: With a patient strategy, the domineering can be redeemed.
In the beginning, Darla, a huge lab, considered Angel and her leash as dog toys. One tug and Angel turned biblical: “Wherever you go, I will go, too.” Darla, though, was just a gentle giant. If Angel didn’t resist, Darla lost interest. The gist of this story (the little and big of it), is that the two became good friends.
Rule # 2: In matters of war and peace, the former gets you riled and the latter helps you sleep.
Somewhere around eight months, Angel decided to assert herself—a behavior she carries to this day. No one would treat her like a stuffed toy. She scampered around so fast that humans thought petting her was akin to chasing a squirrel. Playing hard and wild taught Angel an additional truth: too much exertion ends in collapse. Out of self-preservation she settled for a more non-confrontational posture.
Rule # 3: Sharing is essential to the common good.
Oh, but generosity has never come easily to this eight-and-a-half-pound pup. She prefers her own toys and her own company. How simple that would have been if she were the only dog, but for ten years she has lived in a household of visiting dogs and adoptive siblings, so she has no choice but to share. And the meeting place is the living room dog bed.
Rule # 4: Sometimes the one so different from us becomes the greatest treasure.
Of all the dogs in Angel’s life, her best buddy was a big, gangly, scruffy mutt named Josie. By appearances, they would have seemed a strange pair, but what a bond. No matter that one was a breeder’s darling and the other a cast-off, or that Angel’s hair was silky beige and white and Josie’s was wiry black and gray. So different, so linked, such faithful friends, content to share time and cushion. When, after twelve years of life, Josie began to fail, Angel refused to leave her side.
The other day I sang along with Anne Murray’s “Sure Could Use a Little Good News Today.” So often, the world’s anger knocks the wind out of me, and then I look at Angel’s funny face and I laugh. Miss Manners? Maybe not all the time, but just enough. If creatures, through instinct, can curl up with those four rules, if animals can give and take and make friends with those different from them, maybe there is hope for the rest of us.
The publication of my book was only the beginning. The hard part for me is the trek into marketing. When Seuss promised, Oh, the Places You’ll Go, he described my experience from first to last.
Today is your day.
The journey began with a celebration at my cousin’s home in the Oakland Hills of California. I had memorized my thirty-minute presentation and outfitted myself in black-and-white with super-cool sandals. Surely I fit the description:
Your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet
My audience, in turn, was a group Seuss would recognize in a minute as both brainy and footsy. The Q & A brought forth stories and questions of spiritual journeys and nun memories, of the 1960’s power and disillusionment, of promises made and kept and broken, and of the desire for something greater than ourselves.
At Ashland’s Bloomsbury Books and All Saint’s Church Hall in Portland, I felt like the high fliers Seuss describes. Whispering Winds and Forest Grove’s 55+ communities welcomed me. The audience at Cortland Village Apartments preferred discussion to snacks. What a surprise to reconnect with high school classmates, former students, Franciscan friends, and my family, both immediate and extended. But the seduction of success tricked me into claiming Seuss’ tongue-in-cheek lines:
You’ll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.
Except when they don’t.
because, sometimes, they won’t.
Ah, well to remember Seuss’ advice and make my way through the rubble. Among the bricks and mortar, though, I end up having to wait. Maybe, just maybe, book sales will rise; book reviewers will call; Amazon, Goodreads, and The Oregonian will praise my memoir. And those contests I entered? First place is too much to expect, but wouldn’t it be nice to be among the chosen ten?
In the meantime I need a head full of brains and shoes full of feet. One last admonition (a variation on the good Doctor’s words) as I practice my talks, don my paisley, and pull on my leather boots:
Be careful, nimble, and cleverly deft
so you’ll never mix up right foot from left.
Oh, the Places I’ll Go: