It's a clear and beautiful mid-Saturday here in Los Angeles. Our air is fresh after last week's welcome rain, and our collective Angeleno Spirits are up.
So why have I been sitting and staring at the furry conundrum that is our Dog, instead of running about outside in that freshy air?
Well, he's a Doodle, which to other owners of such stock is 'nuff said, but to the blissfully ignorant requires a bit of explanation:
Doodles do not shed. They don't have 'fur', but instead have 'hair', which much like our own continues growing and growing until someone cuts it. (I stop here to look longingly at our other dog, a short-haired traditional-style dachshund, who NEVER needs grooming).
For owners expert in grooming by interest - or who have become so by necessity, this is no biggie. (Get out the Shears, Ma!). But to the rest of us who are first-time Doodlers, we find ourselves owners of a canine Gordian Knot, with our only option paying our local grooming Alexanders to wield their mighty swords.
This is not an easy choice for those on a budget, or who like long-hair on dogs. These Doodles have lots of hair and it is expensive to cut; well, at least it is if you are so reluctant to cut the stuff that you unintentionally leave it so long your Dog resembles a giant rasta-hairdooed lint ball rather than something four-legged. Once in such a state, the groomers roll their eyes and give just one choice - total annil-hair-ation.
Once groomed, the formerly glorious hound looks like a badly-sheared sheep. (Hey, I wonder if taking your Doodle to a sheep-shearing is cheaper?)
So, I am sitting here, mentally exploring alternatives to a buzz-cut. And, of course, I begin to see metaphors to other parts of (my) life.
The most immediate being meetings. Too many meetings, of the corporate type involving many invitees and frequent recurrences planned in advance for months on end. And the endless reams of communications and declarations and agendas and minutes that come from all of them.
Show me the inbox of a typical mid-level corporate wonk and I'll show you meetings and their swirl. You'd be hard-pressed to find the 'skin of the dog'.
Maybe if I can suss out the best approach to our Doodle, I may be able to apply the lessons to my corporate life. Barring any business Alexanders wielding efficiency swords who may pop up, I could be my company's only hope.
But only if I can get a handle on this Doodle.
So why have I been sitting and staring at the furry conundrum that is our Dog, instead of running about outside in that freshy air?
Well, he's a Doodle, which to other owners of such stock is 'nuff said, but to the blissfully ignorant requires a bit of explanation:
Doodles do not shed. They don't have 'fur', but instead have 'hair', which much like our own continues growing and growing until someone cuts it. (I stop here to look longingly at our other dog, a short-haired traditional-style dachshund, who NEVER needs grooming).
For owners expert in grooming by interest - or who have become so by necessity, this is no biggie. (Get out the Shears, Ma!). But to the rest of us who are first-time Doodlers, we find ourselves owners of a canine Gordian Knot, with our only option paying our local grooming Alexanders to wield their mighty swords.
This is not an easy choice for those on a budget, or who like long-hair on dogs. These Doodles have lots of hair and it is expensive to cut; well, at least it is if you are so reluctant to cut the stuff that you unintentionally leave it so long your Dog resembles a giant rasta-hairdooed lint ball rather than something four-legged. Once in such a state, the groomers roll their eyes and give just one choice - total annil-hair-ation.
Once groomed, the formerly glorious hound looks like a badly-sheared sheep. (Hey, I wonder if taking your Doodle to a sheep-shearing is cheaper?)
So, I am sitting here, mentally exploring alternatives to a buzz-cut. And, of course, I begin to see metaphors to other parts of (my) life.
The most immediate being meetings. Too many meetings, of the corporate type involving many invitees and frequent recurrences planned in advance for months on end. And the endless reams of communications and declarations and agendas and minutes that come from all of them.
Show me the inbox of a typical mid-level corporate wonk and I'll show you meetings and their swirl. You'd be hard-pressed to find the 'skin of the dog'.
Maybe if I can suss out the best approach to our Doodle, I may be able to apply the lessons to my corporate life. Barring any business Alexanders wielding efficiency swords who may pop up, I could be my company's only hope.
But only if I can get a handle on this Doodle.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment