Gourd-o, or how I learned a lesson in humility…

Oh yes, most of you know that last week was definitely a (Bad) Whippet Wednesday week, but I chose to write something good about Max because I was absolutely furious with him and I feared a post about his bad deeds last week would not be told in a humorous light. In fact, his prisoner outfit in the picture above is not far off from what he really deserved! Here’s how it all started…

I went to visit my family in New Mexico the second week of September. My brother’s girls who are oh so cute are growing up much too fast for me and I rarely get to see them. I was also really missing home—REALLY missing it. I miss the dry heat, the desert summer nights, the awesome food, and the mountains. It hit me like a brick this year. So, off I went. It also happened to be Fiestas de Santa Fe the weekend that I went home so I was really excited. I spent the night at my dad’s in Santa Fe and we went down to the Plaza in the morning for breakfast. There were mariachis playing, food booths, and artisans’ booths all around the Plaza and so we walked around quickly (I had to be in Albuquerque that afternoon to watch my nieces) and we found these awesome Christmas ornament gourds. I had to have one because I’m so homesick that anything that reminds me of New Mexico while in Texas is now a welcome sight. My dad offered to pay for it and said to me, “I want to buy it for you. I never get to buy you anything.” OK…queue tears. I’m a little teary writing about it because my dad is a really nice and generous person even though sometimes he is um…argumentative! hehehe! You know what? I let him buy it for me without much of a fight because I honestly really wanted it and it seemed to mean a lot to him to let him buy it for me. I was so excited. I brought it home the following week and showed Kevin and then put it on a ledge right next to our fireplace mantle.

    

The beautiful Christmas gourd with a hand carved pueblo in it.

Well that was dumb. Despite it being wrapped in bubble wrap and a ziploc bag, I should have known that Max (a.k.a. Gourd-o) would get into it. The dog is really a vacuum cleaner of destruction. We’ve been trying to leave the dogs on their own more and dog proofing the house as much as possible (and with LOTS of puzzle toys with treats in them) before we leave. We wanted to go see Machete in the movie theaters with some friends so after putting all electrical cords out of reach, putting up the fish food box, taking (what I thought was) all the food off the counters, and putting our computers up, off we went. We knew there would be destruction when we got home. They are after all DOGSTROSITIES, but what I came home to I wasn’t quite prepared for.

It was mass destruction. There was little paper bits or something strewn all over the floor in both our dining room and living room! A tornado had hit the house—no, no…it was Max and Turbo! Honestly, I never would have known that my gourd was even gone, but the little red rug from the pueblo that sat inside the gourd was on the floor. When I saw that I gasped audibly and a freak-out commenced. Oh, this was nearly the mother of all freak-outs…I cried. I cried very hard because it was one of the only things I have in the house from New Mexico. I called my dad and told him what monsters my dogs were and he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll find another one for you.” How was he supposed to do that? And, how could I even let him get me a new one when the evil twins would just find a way to jump up to wherever I put the new gourd and have another snack?!! I told my dad, “No dad. It was expensive and I should have taken better care of it and kept it out of their reach. They’ll just ruin it if you get me another one.” **Note that this conversation was more a blubbering mess of words that my dad could not even understand. Yes, I was that upset! I told my dad I had to go and hung up the phone.

All night I refused to acknowledge Max and Turbo’s presence because I was so mad. I finally forgave them the next morning when Turbo came and snuggled with me. I realized that my behavior was, well….BAD, and so I actually felt the need to apologize to my dogs with some hugs and kisses (I also felt the need to apologize to Kevin for completely falling apart because I was in fact inconsolable the night before) and I even posted on Facebook:

“OK...my meltdown over the Christmas ornament that my dogs ate last night is over. I realized just now that the Christmas ornament doesn't love me, but my dogs' love is unconditional. Perspective. The little lessons in life.”

Yes. I realize that I was wrong to be so upset. An inanimate object is nothing in comparison with the love these two monsters give me on a daily basis. Lesson learned…or so I thought. You might actually be asking yourself, “Carin, how did you know that Max was the one that ate the gourd?” Yes, folks. I know. I know because I take them out everyday and watch them do their dog business so I can pick it up and that’s how I know who the culprit was. To add to insult to my injury, Max tortured me with three days of gourd passing!

So, this is how Max has picked up a new nickname. “Gordo” in Spanish means “fat” and so in a cruel, cruel, twist of words, I have give Max the nickname of “Gourd-o” because he is skinny as a rail, but he is a fatty with my gourd in his belly! When he does something bad, I just look at him and say, “What’s up Gourd-o? Why you gotta be so bad?!!” I now see the humor in his bad deed and learned a lesson in the process.

But wait! The story is not over. Where is the lesson in humility? Oh yes, there is one! So on Saturday I went to pick up the mail at our box and in mail was a package…from my dad. I knew as soon as I picked it up that he had gotten something to replace it because that’s just how my dad rolls. I didn’t think it would be a gourd ornament because he bought it for me at one of the temporary tents that was only up for Fiestas. Well, guess what? He went all over town looking for another gourd and that is exactly what he found. He even put in a really nice note for me that included,

“I do want you to know that as long as I am able, I will always be there for you if you ever have such a need.”

Queue more tears. I did not expect this, nor do I deserve it after I behaved the way I did. What kind of dad does something like this? A very, very kind and loving dad! So there is my lesson in humility, and here is the picture of the new gourd that means just as much, if not more than the first one did:

     

The new gourd. Still the cute ristra and rug, but it’s a mission this time, not a pueblo.

So thank you Dad for being so kind even when I’m being a drama queen, and thank you Max and Turbo for loving me even when I was so upset and unloving toward you both.