Today, I gained a new respect for Kirby the Wonder Dog. I’ve always liked Kirby, I guess, in spite of the fact that he out-sleeps my cat by 4-5 hours a day and doesn’t play in any form. He’s oblivious to chipmunks and rabbit 10 feet away. If I were to be honest, what I would say he is just super-focused on “Oh my God, oh my God, I can pee on things.”
He’s so cute no one can kill him.
There are however, two reason’s I would rather he was not around me.
He omits olfactrons that are not in the wanted column of my experience. It’s everything. His breath. His body odor. He lets out bunkerbusters that silently thump the floor and spread out in an invisible flash of white light just before it burns the hair out of your nose. I know he doesn’t mean it quite this way, but he quietly sneaks up and goes to sleep under my office chair, and waits until I notice. I hold my nose and swear under my breath and he looks at me with goo-goo eyes.
He has an allergy to flea bites and he scratches. Poor guy can’t help it. The thing is when he does, the thumps the floor with his hind foot and toenails so that it sounds like someone is outside insistently knocking on the front door. And he does it over and over and over not stopping ever, knocking knocking knocking for 35 minutes straight until you just want to pull your Cowboy Action completion 12 gauge 1897 Winchester Riot Gun out of retirement and…did I tell you he was cute?
He’s mostly an indoor dog. He likes going on walks. Other than that and going to the bathroom, there’s not much reason to go outdoors. It is much easier to sleep indoors. Oh, I invite him when I go to work in my remote garden office under the maple. Mostly he refuses. Unless I have a plate, then he beats me to the door. Today that plate had a roast beef on rye.
So I ate my sandwich and Kirby gave me the goo-goo eyes. I’m mostly immune, but I was either feeling good or feeling guilty and I shared. Soon the cat showed up. I gave her a piece, too. Mostly she doesn’t care what I’m eating, but she liked the roast beef.
So the three of us had a roast beef sandwich picnic.
The cat realized we were done, got up and continued her rounds. Kirby realizing the food was gone started off as well. I called him back. I know it is unfair, but the cat is territorial and was making her rounds. Kirby, on the other hand, is omnidirectional. He’ll take off and if I miss his leaving, I’ll get a call a couple hours later and have to drive a mile or two to collect him.
Kirby was disappointed because no doubt he thought it was a good time to go back inside and sleep. But he did the thing that felt better and started chewing grass. I went back to writing.
And then it hit me.
The all too familiar smell of dog poop. Kirby had planted a big one about 10 feet upwind of my remote office between me and the garden. I got my things together and went inside, cursing the whole way.
Now I’m pretty sure Kirby didn’t pull out an iPad and write an algorithm to calculate the exact location and size of his deposit, but it did the trick perfectly. He did what felt better–relieve himself of a grass- induced crapload—and that got him what he wanted, a nap inside.
He has Law of Attraction down pat. He focuses on taking a nap in his bed and then lets it go. He wanders back, notices some grass that didn’t get mowed and chews on it because it seems like the thing to do. He then does the thing that feels like relief. Not here. Not here. Not here. Here. Then launches a 24 inch spread of turds in an array to have a maximum effect.
Much more efficient than what we humans do. If we were Kirby and we were told we couldn’t take a nap in our bed we might think something like this:
“I never get to take naps when I want. Sometimes I think he does it just to spite me. It’s just like my mother used to do. She never let me do anything. Treated me like a child. But I’ve done a lot of inner work on that so there must be something else wrong. I’m not a bad person, it’s not like it hurts anyone to take a nap, I mean, what skin is it off of his nose. Look at him just sitting there writing like he is the most important person in the world. Well fine. I’ll sit here but I don’t have to like. See if I do anything for him. The sonofabitch.”
And then we would emit the best passive aggressive vibes we can muster.
All-in-all, I think Kirby’s way works better.
Anyway, if you hear someone discussing the Kirby Method, although odds are you won’t, it is referring to:
Feel into what you want, as soon as you have it, go on to something else.
Do the next thing or think next thought that feels better.
Crap in the yard.
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(c)2014 Chip Engelmann