Conquering My Nemesis
Dog pee on the rug.
That was my old nemesis.
For reasons I won’t elaborate on (to not attract more of it), one of my biggest challenges was learning to walk in the front room to check for wet spots from inappropriate canine elimination, while holding the expectation of “nice dry rug.”
If the dogs had been left in quite a while, or there was a suspicious smell, or the cats were acting funny near a particular corner, or the rug looked wet for some reason, I used to march over exclaiming, “This better not be what I think it is!” I would hold thoughts of a damp smelly rug, with the only question being whether it was still warm or had been there a while.
That dog pee situation was a big charge for me. No surprise it happened often, huh?
Yeah, a lot. (My carpet cleaner used to be on speed dial, and I used to buy two rugs, with one on standby when it was time to call it quits on the first.) All those wet rug opportunities gave me plenty of practice at changing my thoughts as I conducted rug sweeps.
When I would walk to the suspicious corner I would catch myself expecting to blame somebody (usually the boyfriend who made us late getting home, or the ex-boyfriend who didn’t come over to give them a break), and anticipating that familiar feeling of wet rug under hand or foot.
So I learned to test the rug while saying “Ah, nice dry rug.” “What good dogs. Thanks for holding it, everyone! That’s right, nice dry rug!”
There wasn’t a single time I expected dry rug that I was met with disappointment.
It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with that.
Today I met my nemesis again.
My ex asked me to check on his dogs while he was out of town for a day and a half. Morning check-in revealed his mastiff foster escaped his kennel. And the house showed it. That guy wreaked HAVOC! I won’t even describe the destruction I witnessed. Whew. It was bad.
Dining room chairs chewed up, couches on their backs, cushions missing, blankets in the kitchen, poopy paw prints everywhere, trails of urine in the hallway.
All right, I lied. That pretty much describes it. The poor cats looked like they were in shell shock.
My first thought was, “I’m not cleaning this up.”
My second thought confirmed the first one. I didn’t have time to, even if I wanted to. Which I definitely didn’t.
My next thought was “I can’t leave these guys here.” It was a hazard zone! I only had 20 minutes before my next client session, so I loaded everyone in the car and took them to my house.
Notice what happened? Reactivation of my nemesis vibe, and lots of “good” reason to worry about what would happen at my place.
After all, I’m on the phone with each client for over an hour, and I had two sessions in a row. No time for supervising; seven dogs (his four and my three) were left to their own devices for a good three hours.
After my last session I walked out of the office to survey. Yeah, to survey damage. That’s what I was expecting. What did they get into? What could be fixed? What was ruined?
I caught that familiar feeling. “Hey, I’m looking for trouble.”
Maybe I should look for confirmation of what good dogs I have instead?
Looks like they rustled the garbage, but didn’t remove anything. Cool. Cats look okay. Plants upright. Good. Couch cushions in place. Fabulous. Next the rug.
I immediately thought of “wet rug.” That’s what I didn’t want. What did I want? Nice dry rug. I made a barefoot sweep across the rug, while repeating to self “nice dry rug.” Sure enough, dry rug! Yay! My nemesis defeated! I truly have conquered my (former) biggest manifesting challenge!
That’s when I noticed the slobber. On the chair, the couch, blanket, stereo, my favorite buddha statue. Lots of slobber.
Well, at least slobber doesn’t smell.