Learning to Smile

If my wife’s dogs were children Honey would be the middle child. She’s a Chihuahua like the older two; she’s not a Doberman or a Siberian Husky like the younger two.

She’s a sweet dog except for that time she bit the seat of a church member’s britches. (It’s been a long time since I typed the word “britches.” It felt good.)

It isn’t like Honey doesn’t get any attention. She does. It just isn’t as much as she used to get when she was a puppy. Back then it was just the three Chihuahuas with Honey being the youngest. She was carried back and forth, talked to incessantly by my kids and named one of People Magazine’s most eligible Chihuahuas.

That last one isn’t true, but don’t tell Honey. She believes everything we tell her.

Ever since we acquired Beulah (the Doberman) and Sasha (the Husky), Honey’s circumstances have changed. The younger two have stolen her thunder and erased some of her attention.

What’s a Chihuahua to do? I’ll tell you what Honey did: she learned how to SMILE! I don’t know how she did it and I’m pretty sure she didn’t know the impact it would have, but Honey learned to smile.

I’m a sucker for dogs who smile. Seeing one makes me happy. If it doesn’t make you happy you probably also frown at rainbows and fat babies. A smiling dog is amazing. Honey (probably inadvertently) found a way to get back some long-lost attention.

Sometimes when people fail to get what they want or they grow stagnant, they try to change their circumstances. Honey wasn’t able to do that. Instead of changing her circumstance, she changed herself. She learned to smile.

Her smile isn’t perfect. It’s really more of a half-smile. But it was enough.

Stagnancy is bad, but it may not be a reason to make a major change. All you and I may need to do in some situations is learn how to smile.