The High Road

For as long as I can remember I have been taught to take the "High Road". The high road comes into one's vocabulary in conversations such as this:

"Hey Mom". "Hi, how was your day?" "OK". "Just okay?" "Well, Janey called me a bad word today." "Hmmm....how did you feel about that?" "Not too good." "Did you say anything back?" "No, I would have gotten in trouble." "Well, it's always better to take the high road".

Maybe you've had conversations like this.

I've had this kind of conversation at times when friends wanted to see an R rated movie. We were 16. I refused to go and we went to see a PG movie instead.

OR

When kids my age were experimenting with drinking, smoking, and other unmentionable things--it was the 70's you know....

OR

More recently when someone said something not too nice about me to someone I care about.

My instinct is to say stuff that would show just how bad the other person is, but.....I really should take the high road.

That low road would be easier to take.

The effort to reach up and pull myself to the high road seems formidable--impossible. I weigh an awful lot. To be able to pull myself up there is kind of hard!

BUT-I know what the right thing is. My parents taught me by word and example that the high road is better. I need to take that high road no matter what others say and do. It's hard, but it's right. Sometimes remembering to follow the path of Jesus Christ is the thought that helps pull me up to the high road.

Maybe someday it will be easier...

Poor, Poor Doggie

So-Kirby and I were outside cleaning out the car which should really happen daily but happens about once per month.

Anyway-we were out there minding our own business. Kirby was on his leash. Suddenly a loud barking sound came from next door. Usually the barking is muffled because it comes from inside the neighbor's house. Today however, it was definitely not muffled. I looked up and the neighbor's dog was charging my little tiny dog.

The neighbor's dog is about a foot higher and two feet longer than mine. The neighbor's dog outweighs mine by about 50 pounds.

So-the dog is charging over to us, his leash dragging on the ground. The neighbor who is about 95 and can hardly walk practically ran after the dog. (Kind of hilarious if it weren't so scary!)

The dog made it over to Kirby and started--well, I don't really know because I wasn't on the receiving end. I ran to the other end of Kirby's leash and stepped in front of him to keep the other dog away. Kirby, in his attempt to get away, wound his leash around the carport pole.

Of course the poor old guy was mortified. Kirby was shaking he was sooo scared. I was trying to figure out how to comfort Kirby and let the neighbor know I wasn't angry-you know--brotherly love and all.....

I finally picked Kirby up, the neighbor caught the leash of his dog and they went on a walk. Kirby and I finished cleaning out the car-but he insisted on being held. He even jumped in the car and refused to get out.

All of this took place in a two minute time period. An hour later, poor Kirby was still shaking. He didn't cringe or anything when I felt his bones and stuff, but he was moving kind of slowly. I finally gave the poor boy a half a baby aspirin.

Now he is sleeping in between my legs-under a blanket. He starts shaking again when I take him out to go to the bathroom.

That's my doggie story for today....