The Simple Stink

I once received an unexpected lesson from my dog. One fine afternoon, I walked into the kitchen. The sun was streaming through the windows, illuminating Bandit’s crate – think New York City apartment occupying prime real estate right smack in the middle of the kitchen. I was greeted with his rolling snores. To my dismay, it was not the smell of baked goods that reached my sinuses. The permeating stench of Bandit’s crate overpowered any sweet aroma. My olfactory senses were immediately overloaded, and I was rooted in place by the assault. There the beast was, lolling on his back, his tongue out. Everything was covered with its usual coat of slobber. His studio was due for a cleaning. The chew toys looked gooey and were in a state of advanced decay. His bed, the centerpiece of the studio, was massive compared to Bandit’s much smaller frame. The bed reeked of unpleasantries unknown to man. Some of them I could put a name to, but I knew not to test my limits. The knowledge would be too much. Bandit himself portrayed signs of a busy day. His fur was far from its usual white; my dog was gray. There was no questioning it. Either someone had substituted my dog for another, or Bandit had spent a long, tiresome day rolling around in the dirt. He was not merely napping. In this nap, my dog basked in the glory of a fruitful and muddy day. Overall, the crate was absolute carnage, but there Bandit was with what was distinctly a grin spread across his face. I longed for this simplicity. As I walked towards Bandit’s studio, I felt his snores vibrating beneath my feet. I entered his crate and the snores came to an abrupt halt. Bandit

popped an eye open to see who had caused such a commotion. He relaxed as he recognized me. With his eye still open, his snores resumed their methodical pace. I made my way over to Bandit’s bed and laid down next to him. I peaked over at his smile, and it dawned on me. Despite the smell, despite the disorder, despite the dilapidated state of his chew toys, Bandit was happy. Maybe I was a little uptight. Perhaps there was something I could learn from this slovenly beast. Relax a little. Enjoy. We lay there deep in our thoughts, and enjoyed one another's company. In Bandit’s smelly safe haven, worries and frustrations were not welcome. He did not know the trials and failures of a human day, and I hoped he never would. I submerged myself at the end of a usual dog day. I submerged myself into a piece of Bandit's happiness. As we shared the comfort, I felt my worries rise off me. I knew the bubble of comfort could not last. Moments later, I rose and felt the world resume its weight on my shoulders, but with it was the comfort and the knowledge that a simple stinky day was out there waiting for me.