Last night I sat down to write post four of The Twelve Days of Christmas to discover that it was 1am. DAMMIT. Only four days into the Twelve Days of Christmas I broke my promise of a daily post because I was at a Christmas party and lost track of time. Kicking myself for failing as a writer, friend, advisor, and human being, I stood and entered my living room to find a shredded ten-dollar bill on the floor.
Digby looked guilty but only in a, “Well you weren’t paying attention to me, you asshole” kind of way so my anger subsided. It’s not like he knew that piece of paper had a ten-dollar value. Or did he? In the background of this little scene lay his new winter coat.
Just two hours before I had given “But my dog needs clothes” spiel to friends. “Boston terriers and pugs can’t regulate their body temperature in extreme weather due to their brachycephalic noses!” I don’t know if it’s because I find it hard to pronounce “brachycephalic” but no one ever buys my story.
I swear to God the pug breeder I talked to said that pugs have to wear coats. That said, two of my neighbours have pugs who seem to handle the winter just fine by being naked outdoors. And they aren’t even embarrassed!
Anyway, the best thing about feeling desperate so often is that the little things can become much funnier than they would otherwise. I mean, I really needed those ten dollars because I am flat broke. But did I need them in the way that Digby needs a winter coat? Who is to say what money can buy in terms of quality of life, even in the Christmas season when I’m making more gifts than I want to yet again. I have a roof over my head and a dog in a silly jacket to make me laugh.
So it goes. Life is fucked, one hundred percent. Children being murdered during the holiday season, and I want to cry every day. I can’t be perfect, no one is. So I’m going to screw up in being the perfect blogger and Digby is never going to be the model of dog behaviour.
In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, whom I’m leaning on quite a lot these days, “So it goes.”
“The repeated refrain from Vonnegut’s classic Slaughterhouse-Five isn’t notable for its unique wording so much as for how much emotion—and dismissal of emotion—it packs into three simple, world-weary words that simultaneously accept and dismiss everything. There’s a reason this quote graced practically every elegy written for Vonnegut over the past two weeks (yes, including ours): It neatly encompasses a whole way of life. More crudely put: “Shit happens, and it’s awful, but it’s also okay. We deal with it because we have to.” – A.V. Club
I even embroidered those words on my journal for art month. So it goes.
Thank you Kurt, Digby, and my friends who humour my outrageous pet owner antics. Thank you readers. We’ll keep going, because we have to. Thank goodness life can make us laugh once in a while.
P.S. Digby also crashed a nativity scene recently. It totally made my week.