A Little Bit of Failure

No one likes to fail. That's a fact of human nature. (And yes, I said I wouldn't be on here that much, but sometimes, like today, I just need put some thoughts into the atmosphere.) Much of the day, for much of the week, I think I'm pretty successful. No, I haven't published a book yet, so I guess I haven't succeeded in that realm, but I can identify that I'm making progress, and that my novel writing skills are getting better. So I'll count that among my little successes (they don't always have to be big, right?).

But this post isn't about writing. It's about the fact that yesterday, we sent Toby to a new home. And I feel like I failed the poor guy.

First off, let me say this: he should love this place. His new family consists of six, responsible college guys who will have so much more time to give to him than I do. Two of them visited Toby, twice, and played with him for a few hours at a time. They tugged with him, didn't mind his nipping, and were excited to try to get him to stop his errant behavior. And Toby loved having them come by, so I can't be too upset about where he went.

But truthfully, I feel a little bit like a failure. Like I could have done more to try and help this dog fit into the family. That I should have set aside an hour a day (that I really don't have) to train the dog and usher him into our lifestyle (you know, don't bite the hand that feeds you sort of thing). I couldn't do it, though. I just couldn't fit one more thing into my schedule, and so, I let it go. (Please don't cue the music.)

I hope it works out for Toby. I told Tim that if the new family can't make strides with him, I'll take him back. Because I can't see sending him somewhere that isn't good for him. He is a high-energy dog with a good soul...I truly believe that. He just didn't match up well with us--Shadow and Lucy in particular.

I'm going to choose not to focus on this perceived failure today. It could start off a week on a negative note, and by George, I don't need that. Instead, I'm going to look at Toby's absence as a blessing: less hair on the ground, and I don't need to worry that he'll eat the cat while I'm away. One less thing to worry about, right? Which should give me more time to be with the kids and write. It's a win-win, I guess.

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