Big Dog Little Dog

My husband and I play a game every so often. We introduced it to keep two young girls in the back of the car from asking, ‘Are we there yet?’ It is called ‘Big Dog Little Dog’ although my husband has stolen the name now to explain issues of crofting land and common grazing. Big dog is the croft which the tenant has full say over. Little dog is the common grazing which he has to share with other crofters. It is all very complicated.

A big dog, if spotted, earns five points. A small dog earns two points. What about the ones that fall the middle I hear you ask. There is sone debate about it. There is also some debate about what to do if you spot the same dog twice. It’s a good game to play at an agricultural show. There are lots of dogs and the debate becomes all about who spotted it first.

Away from towns and agricultural shows there aren’t so many dogs so we move on to sheep (collectively five points because there are not rare), cows (collectively ten points because they are bigger than sheep), horses get their own ten points and deer which we’ve not yet seen on route have not been allocated points, And llamas too.

Crossing the field to get to the shop it’s inevitable that there are dogs and, for the unobservant, dog poo, to circumnavigate.

Yesterday there were two dogs, more it you count the ones at the far end of the field. The first encounter was with a black and white dog. It wasn’t a collie. It had the waggiest tail I had ever seen and a red ball in it mouth. It looked friendly but chose not to come near although it stopped to observe me.

I envied the waggy tail and wished I had one.

‘Would you wag it if you had one?’ my inner voice asked. I came to the conclusion that I was not in a tail wagging mood. The morning had not fallen into its usual pattern, Downloading and reading sci-fi books needs to be rationed and I hadn’t rationed at all. I had gorged and my head felt all stuffed up.

The second encounter was not in the field but along the pavement. A couple with two dogs had pulled into a driveway to let me pass. I was musing about the lack of a waggy tail and my disinclination to wag it anyway so I wasn’t paying attention. This dog was brown and hairy. It barked, not just loudly, but venomously. Had it not been on a lead it might have attacked. It did not look like the all-bark-no-bite kind of dog. We locked eyes, the dog and I. I think that can be construed by a dog as a challenge. It had a wild look.

The owner apologised, as did I for being in a dream world.

‘Ah,’ said the inner voice, ‘now this dog, this one, that is more like you.’

Sad to say I could see myself reflected in its wild eyes and hear the loud bark rising in me. Ouch! I appreciate that I can’t always have a waggy tail mentality. I’d be suspicious of myself it I did. But the snarling and snapping? Do I really need to hang on to that? Knowing I was in a grouchy mood I felt my first, best strategy was to simply avoid people. That way I would not snarl at anyone. That is good as a short-term measure but not good for long stretches.

There are a million strategies out there for dealing with the grouchy you. It occurs to me that my pause box, my making pompoms and origami butterflies might be one of them. Sitting down with a cup of tea might be another. I had been reading an article beforehand about cutting down tea and coffee to deal with tummy issues. I hav

e access, too, to a writers’ meditation resource which I occasionally dive into. Housework, and ironing focus can also work, but seeing as I rarely do them I can’t make any guarantees.

Getting grouchy reminds me that I am human so I try not to beat myself up about it. Sometimes I think I need to adjust the high bar I set for myself to something a little lower, not much lower, but something manageable.

That makes sense. Stop being such a prigging perfectionist and Little Miss Smiley Face once in a while.