Not For Julie!

If you follow my blog

regularly or recently

you’ve been introduced

to Figgy Pudding,

my nose-breaking-black eye making

72-pound chocolate lab mix.

As a puppy,

Figgy did time at

obedience classes,

private trainings

doggie boot camps

in my feeble attempt

to tame him into an

acceptable roommate.

The only one who had

even marginal success

with Figgy

was a trainer named Rachel.

For each behavior infraction

Rachel would reprimand

Figgy with a dissapproving:

“NOT FOR FIGGY!”

I like this because

it implied that Figgy’s behavior —

be it chewing a hole in a

cashmere sweater,

peeing on the duvet cover or

eating a bottle of thyroid medication —

was not wrong, exactly

just not for Figgy.

Her words implied choice

and the feeling that somehow

we all had higher expectations

of Figgy’s behavior.

And he should too.

Since Figgy is mostly trained now,

again I believe by his choice,

I’ve taken to using this command on myself.

NOT FOR JULIE!

I admonish myself under my breath.

Be it a scone I don’t need

a friendship that’s not serving me

or a habit I can’t seem to break.

It’s not wrong or bad,

It’s just not for Julie.

Good girl.

 

 

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