The dog ate my story

Becky Holland

The whole purpose of my weekly column is not to write about my dog, though he does provide for good space filler, or myself, though my goof-ups and lessons do provide for good illustrations on how to pr not to live life, or my family, friends and co-workers (sometimes, it is just to fill space or to share a life lesson that might help a reader). A weekly column in a newspaper is to accomplish one of three things. One would be to educate or two, to provide humor, or to express an opinion.

As mentioned before in previous columns here, everyone has an opinion and I express mine no matter if I am right or wrong. Sometimes, my opinions get me into trouble.

Even with my dog.

Tullie and I had been watching a movie Friday night with some friends. In fact, I have had some friends over a few times. In the process of watching the movie, Tullie decided to jump up in the middle of the couch, and started sniffing one of my guests. I told him to get down.

He looked at me like I had just taken away his favorite chew toy or something. He sulked like a child who didn’t get the toy he asked for at Christmas, and hid under the coffee table. He stared up at us, with his huge brown eyes.

“Becky, don’t be so mean,” my friend said.

Me, mean? To that dog? The dog who has his own Crimson Tide sweater? The dog who has his own pillow on my bed? The dog who eats Rachel Ray’s designer dog food? The dog who has his own seat in the Green Machine?

“Yeah, Becky. This is his house, and we are intruding on his territory,” my friend said.

I looked between my two guests and thought “what in the world?”

“Come here, Tullie, is Becky being mean to you? Just because there is company? Come on,” one of the friends said.

Tullie jumped up on the couch, and got comfy, and looked at me, like he was saying “Nanana boo boo.”

“I never said anything about him bothering me, that is just your opinion,” G had said petting the dog, who turned back to look at me like “See.”

I just shook my head.

In a few minutes, Tullie decided to get in her lap.

I shooed him a way, because she doesn’t like dogs.

“He is fine, B, relax.”

Tullie, again, gave me this triumphant look, and settled into her lap.

In a few minutes, he started to bite on her sweater, and that was the last straw.

I made him get down and carried him into the other room.

Saturday morning, one of my friends was over, and she walked into my living room, and said, “Uh, Becky, I think Tullie is hungry or mad.”

Yawning, as I walked through the door of my bedroom, I said, “Why do you say that?”

My dog was sitting on the couch, with a slight smirk on his face.

I looked down on the floor, and screamed, “Tullie.”

All over the floor were shredded pieces of paper. My eyes went to the coffee table where the notebook I had just written a story in was.

I said, was.

Sometime during the night, the dog decided to show me who’s boss and ate my story, and a couple of receipts from Wal-Mart.

Isn’t that how life is sometimes? Have you ever said something about someone, and it wasn’t gossip or anything, but just an opinion and that person took what you said out of context? That person may have gotten angry, hurt or frustrated and tried to get you back somehow?

Do you remember that friend that you had in sixth grade who abandoned you as her best friend and became friends with the girl you didn’t like? What about the boy in elementary school who kept on teasing you because you had a big head or an extra toe? Do you remember the boy who dumped you right before prom because he wanted to go with a cheerleader?

These “wonderful” memories may be filed under grudge. It’s a feeling you hold against another person. That feeling is of ill will or resentment. There are even some stronger words that could describe a grudge. Those would be bitterness, hatred, malice, spite.

What purpose did or do those grudges have then, if the person who had hurt you did not actually know about them? Surely, and I write that with tongue in cheek, the only reason one would carry a grudge is because the other person would know how much they had hurt us and how angry we were at them? Does their behavior or opinion mean that I can act the same as them? Can I treat other friends badly because one friend of mine in sixth grade left me for another? Or because some little meat head called me big head?

How do grudges affect us? I look around and observe people. Grudges can make you feel miserable. And, in your own little world, you think you are entitled to be miserable because of all the horrible things people have done to you. You are not going to be happy because there is no reason.

Why would we allow all of this to happen? It is easier to hold a grudge then to discuss it. It is easier and less scary.

Anja, a friend, wrote, “By not taking responsibility for our lives, we don’t have to make any decisions that could involve taking a risk. We don’t have to try for a new job. We don’t go out on dates anymore.”

She was right. We don’t do a lot of things because we hold grudges, even against ourselves.

My mom said Tullie may have done the deed, but I was the one who left the notebook in reach.

The dog still ate my story though.



Becky Holland is the news and education editor of the Americus Times-Recorder, and can be reached at becky.holland@gaflnews.com or by phone at 924-2751.

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