I’ll write a blog every day. That’ll show ’em! Except when I don’t. And it doesn’t. And right now, I’m not, and I’m not won’t, and I don’t even know how to punctuate that.
How about a little story instead.
Once upon a time a dog learned to dig. Dig dog, dig. The dog dug, and got good at digging.
He found people who said “good dog” when he dug and they gave him treats. He dug for the treats. He noticed that he was digging down and could hardly see over the sides of the rut he was digging, but the people kept shouting “good boy” down at him and he dug and dug.
Then one day he couldn’t hear them shouting anymore. The treats still came but they were stale. Some even tasted like cat treats – you know, fake chicken liver. Yecch.
One day the treats stopped coming. The dog got pissed off and checked his LinkedIn profile for a new job. The wi-fi was terrible down in the hole so he ended up using the personal hotspot on his iPhone.
He found that he had to really increase his social media presence and it would also probably be a good idea to delete all his Tweets praising Rin-Tin-Tin. (And his Lassie fan site.)
Once he cleaned up his act, the offers started flowing in.
Eventually he got another job peeing on things. The pay wasn’t as great as digging but at least he was above ground and he could see when they turned their back on him. He just had to make sure he kept the treats out of the sprayzone.
He thought about becoming a medical transcriptionist to make some extra money on the side but instead settled on a YouTube cooking channel.
He posted a copycat recipe for roasted cat and it went viral. Unfortunately it was demonetized for including a derogatory comment about spaying and neutering.
He fell into a deep depression. One day he left, and was never seen again.
So if you should find yourself next to a deep rut some day and hear a soft whimper or even a bark from the deep hollow beneath – throw in a dog biscuit. The life you save may just be your own.
FIN
