There was almost a brawl in my house this morning.
I knew the potential was there the second I decided to give both dogs their own little chewy bone. Butter, my 3-legged American Eskimo, started gnawing at his. Porkchop the pug just sat there staring at Butter's bone, ignoring the perfectly good one lying right at her feet.
She sat and pierced him with her little pug eyes, willing his bone to her. I said, "Porkchop, this is your bone right here! So delicious." She refused to acknowledge me. I said, "It's everything you could want and more." She inched closer to Butter's chewy. He eyed her warily. It didn't look promising.
As soon as I stepped out of the room to brush my teeth, that little rascal pug made her move. And Butter was not having it. That was his bone, by god, and he wasn't going down without a fight.
Everybody was fine. No blood. Nobody looked worse for the wear. But I saw the lesson. We automatically think somebody else's chewy is way better than our own chewy, even when we have a delightful, fresh, delicious chewy right in front of our snout.
I say forget about the other chewy and enjoy the one you've got. And by chewy, I mean life.