My Glove-Box is Overflowing With E-tickets to Hell

I just came back from the grocery store.  When there, while no more than half-a-leg back into the car to come home, it struck me:  I had sinned.  Mortal and Venial Sins.  Okay, maybe not mortal, but close enough for me.

Nevertheless, I DID break rules.  Okay, maybe not legally, but my own Personal Rules and a lot of others.

Before I make my shame public, I’ll start with Laws of Attraction: which simply say that you attract into your life whatever you think about. Your dominant thoughts will find a way to manifest.

I don’t know if I’ve ever given real thought to what attracts people to one another; in fact, I don’t know if I even cared.  Either you like a person or you don’t.  You have either some things in common or none.  You know, after a few minutes, if the person you meet excites you with their looks, personality, or sense of humor. You know if they intrigue you with intellect, or you are just going in gut-wise and the decision is made for you.  Gut-wise must be where the dominant thought manifests…

You may be drawn to a sales clerk with a hovering demeanor or you may be attracted to a clerk who, by and large, ignores you just long enough to let you make your own decision then suddenly appears at the instant you are ready to check out.  

What determines your reluctance to answer the door to a solicitor? What makes you amenable to listening (for half an hour) to a Jehovah’s Witness when clearly you are of another mindset?  I don’t know.

I am certainly no stranger to what makes us err (as I am my own worst critic) but, clearly, I am an absolute stranger to what makes us divine.

Back to my real story.  Arriving at the grocery store and just before entering I saw the requisite donation solicitor.  I always make it a point to use the opposite entrance when the store entrance has a table near it with Girl Scout Cookies (because I can’t buy Just One Box; I have to buy Ten); Voter Registration tables, Signatures Needed for This Cause (or that); See’s Candy Fundraisers, or simply Solicitors of Any Kind.  Don’t tell me you haven’t all done this at one time or another.

So what "attracted" me to this entrance?  Was the Law of Attraction at work and beyond my control?  I guess.  Because here’s what happened.

Breaking Personal Rule #1:       I stop.

Breaking Personal Rule #2:       I engage.

Breaking Personal Rule #3:       I express interest/concern.

Breaking Personal Rule #4:       I ignored Mind Separating from Reality Warning Signs

Breaking Personal Rule #5:       I become The Champion.

It was cold outside; I was cold. The solicitor was shivering.  I mean, really tho’, it’s California: How cold could it actually be, for crying out loud.  But I just go by me (it’s always all about me); so I figured the guy had to be frozen down to his toes.  It was a bone-chilling 64 degrees outside. You have to understand that my body is solar-powered.

The gentleman at the table had a battered, cardboard ballot-box looking thing with old pictures in a plastic sleeve taped to it.  There were some beat up “business” cards  depicting homeless people scattered about the brown folding card table that was complete with peeling plastic and duct tape. The cards promise to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless.  I was about to become the Lord's Minister for $20.00...leading me to...

Breaking Personal Rule #6:       Blindly refuting that this could be a scam.

Breaking Personal Rule #7:       Ignoring that the man was here from 57 miles away.

I was convinced he needed coffee and offered to get him some while I was in the store.  Anyone who knows me, knows these last four years have been fraught with serious financial problems, unemployment, and trying to get my business off the ground. In fact, saying they are the WORST four years of my life would be an understatement.  BUT: I was on a mission now, mesmerized by my own Self-hypnosis.

I could not donate money, however, I could donate to the man who was there on behalf of the "Sweet-Baby-Jesus-Lord-Have-Mercy-Thank-You-God-Hallelujah-Church-Of-The-Reverend-Curtis-A-Haynes-Congregation".  Can I get an AMEN?!!!!

Breaking Personal Rule #8:       Relinquishing Sanity in Favor of Salvation/Redemption

I floated into the store, with nothing on my mind except that cup of coffee I promised to bring out.  I got the few items I almost forgot I needed, when, suddenly, there I am in front of the deli counter, buying hot food for the Man Doing God’s Work.  I only bought what I would eat, that made sense.  Nothing fancy, just what I call Comfort Food.  Hot macaroni & cheese, chicken tenders…yummmmm.  Yet, stuff I would NEVER buy for myself, in spite of my love of it, because buying prepared food from the deli is…..

Breaking Personal Rule #9:       Wasteful because I can make it at home for a fraction of the cost.

A Starbucks was in the store (it still is, in fact).  Digging deep into my wallet for change, I find a Starbucks card given to me probably over 4 years ago.  WOOT!  I never used it because it was tantamount to:

Breaking Personal Rule #10:     Rebel against overpriced products and frivolous spending (see Rule #9).

Yet there I was.  I got two-- one for me, one for God’s Man About Town.

I’m tooling toward the store exit and feeling blissfully good, magnanimous, blessed, philanthropic, righteous, god-like, benevolent, "saved", and smug.  And so, went about:

Breaking the First Commandment:  Thou shalt not have strange gods before me.

Committing Blasphemy: Self-idolatry.

I’m STILL on the path to burning in the fires of Hell but am powerless to stop myself.

I greet the solicitor with food and coffee, as well as giving him the Starbucks card with the balance remaining on it.  He gratefully accepts my “donation” bows his head and prays for me, thanking God for my generosity.  He was honest; he was sincere: of this I have NO DOUBT. And will never, ever doubt.

I bid him adieu and as I have that half-a-leg in the car, begin to wonder: in WHOSE name did I donate: God Almighty or Pam Almighty?  Who did I think I was?  Sitting there - so full of shame -  unable to separate what I thought was a Good Deed from Arrogance - I wanted to puke.

My shame boiled down to this example: You ask me what I want or need. I tell you I just want a gasket for my blender.  You buy me a whole blender.  Or, I ask for wooden hangars (Because. That. Is. What. I. Want) but you give me sexy, new lingerie:  so I get something that makes You Feel Good.  So, what I did was the same as…

Breaking Personal Rule #11: Doing what “I” think is best for someone instead of doing what they want or providing them with what they really need.

Was I a victim?  I’ll never know.  And, frankly, that’s the ONLY part I don’t care about because just for a few special moments I felt like a million bucks, hence…

Succumbing to yet more sins:  Vanity, Self-aggrandizement, and Needing to be Adored.

In hindsight, maybe I just needed the HUMAN, real-life interaction.  I like to THINK I help by sharing Lost Animal pleas on Facebook, sending condolences to parents who have just lost their child to a drunk driver, then posting links to help them pay for funeral costs, congratulating others on their new successes, praying for others who are going on job interviews, passing along beautiful pictures, funny stories, bad jokes...the list is endless.  But while the gratification of posting on Facebook or Twitter gives me a wonderful feeling, it's transitory and fleeting.  I guess I just needed something tangible at that very moment. A voice to hear, a hand to shake...skin-to-skin contact.

I wish I’d never gone to the store today.  Any day I don’t hate myself is a Good Day and this one turned out to be pretty crappy.

My week’s highlights include two exceptions to the good-deed-gone-bad: Having an Egg McMuffin breakfast with my good friend, John Brown, and an absolutely silly trivia game "hosted" by Tim on FB. 

Have a nice weekend and in spite of me, Do Good Deeds for Unselfish Reasons; perhaps you can undo my mess.

The One That Got Away

RIP: Earl Hindman

In August, I received a text message from a guy who wanted me to scan his dog for a microchip.  After setting up the appointment, I went to his house with all my gear, not just the scanner.  "Ian" instructed me where to park and was waiting on the other side of the fence when I arrived.   I pull up and see just the top of Ian's head over a fence and it all sort of looked like this...without the hat.  

Ok, it was a gate with wheels

  

So the fence was really much bigger.

Le Truck

Meanwhile, I get my grip, hop out of the truck, and forge ahead, not knowing what lay in store for me, as is usually the case.  

Ian opens the gate and out RUSHES this Tank Girl, cleverly disguised as a Bull Terrier, which most people are wont to describe as a Pit.  As she buckled my knees, my VERY first thought was of "Petey" of the Our Gang (Spanky, Alfafa, Darla, Buckwheat) Fame.  My first Pit: this should be interesting. And yet the last thing I thought of was being mauled.  

DOT THE MAGNIFICENT

"Dot" then proceeded to completely bathe me in kisses.  By the time she finished her "Welcome to Our House!" greeting, I was soaked, sopping, wringing wet.  My hair, my face, my ears, my neck down to my fingertips. Geez, she was scary. Cough. Ahem.  

She danced all over the place, whippy-tailed and loving.  Ian was pretty quiet all the while then suggested we go into the backyard because after all that, I couldn't get a good read on the scanner without taking off her collar (metal tags and such interfere with an accurate read for the chip detection).

Dot followed all Ian's quiet, low-key instructions to be still in order for me to do a thorough scan. There was no chip detected.

As menacing as a dewdrop!

I say, "Gee, she smells good", noticing for the first time that her coat is clean, soft, and silky.  Ian tells me he bathed her a few days earlier.  Nice, I think.  Not even a hint of a flea!

Ian begins to tell me that he "adopted" Dot from the people next door who were moving and preparing to leave her at a shelter.  Hmmmm, a guy just adopts a PIT BULL?  What the heck?  I mean, why not just let them dump the dog and go on; and why not another breed of dog? In the interim, he's petting her, cooing to her, and letting her know her WALK is in just a little while.  

I'm liking this guy.  Totally mellow, nothing over-the-top-braggadocio about him.

CLEAN AND SPARKLY

I asked Ian if he wanted her to have a chip and he said yes.  After I "chip" Dot, we walk to an area which is sheltered, carpeted, and neat as a pin.  So what's the first thing I notice: her dishes.  They looked EXACTLY like the ones pictured here.  

Now ALL I can think about is how dirty my own dog's dishes are. How I haven't bathed them in a while. How I didn't walk them once that week. What kind of horrible monster was I? The guilt was overwhelming.

I have to tell Ian that he should not let Dot engage in any strenuous activity at least overnight.  He immediately reaches down and tells her their walk will be postponed until tomorrow.  I want to crawl into my own shameful skin and die.  It gets worse.

Ian tells me, conversationally,  that he's "not a dog-person".  WHAT???!!!!!  He: rescues the dog from death, he bathes the dog, has her scanned for a microchip, he HAS her microchipped, he walks her daily, and he's NOT A DOG PERSON????!!!!  This is the Twilight Zone, my friends.  This is the man that got away.

Hold on:  Come the first of the year, he says, he has a friend who has a WHOLE RANCH up in Northern California, where Dot will go to live and have the place all to herself.  Meanwhile, she'll just hang with Ian.

Is there a moral to the story? Probably not. I could pepper you with all sorts of stuff like "Never judge a book by its cover", or, say, "We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals".

Or, finally, as a reincarnated pup says: “My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy. I didn’t want to cause any unhappiness now—in that way, I decided it was probably better that he wasn’t here to see this, though I missed him so much at that moment the ache of it was as bad as the strange pains in my belly.”   ― W. Bruce Cameron, A Dog's Purpose.

Ode to Ian

Were it so that I could be

As kind and loving such as thee

To care and hold that darling pup...

In strong, enfolding arms.

There is no gauge by which to measure

Goodness in your heart

You asked for nothing; bringing pleasure...

To Dot, so stuffed with charm.

Just trust me now, for I can say

With absolute authori-tay - 

God will not wait nor hesitate... 

To bid you "Come On In!

"For kindness shown my creatures, 

No matter great or small

You've shown me all your mettle 

And thus, you must 

Come live with us

In what I call Animal Kettle!

Kettle's warm and lovely  - 

Mostly all year 'round

We laugh and sing and bark and mew - 

(We make other silly sounds)

We wait for long-lost owners...

Whose pets could not be found.

We'll leave the light on, just in case

You somehow get delayed

But know that we'll be waiting

Cuz for you, is what we prayed".