Too Good To Be True

When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Like when Mama brings treats on a walk—I've learned that means less sniffing and more training, not more snacking. Or when the garage door is left open with no discussion of plans—we're not going on a surprise outing—Mama is, and I'll be staying home wth the the sitter.

I should have known I was in the middle of a "too good to be true" expawrience a few nights ago when I was home with my Mama, cozy and warm, eating my favorite dinner on her bed, watching a movie on my low-tech pawPad. Too many good things all at once. If I had been paying attention, I would have been prepawed for something to happen that I prawbably would not love—not even one bit. But I was having too much fun and forgot about my "when something seems too good to be true, it usually is pawlosophy." So when Mama said, "Floof, please p-a-w-s your movie. I have something impawtant to tell you," instead of being on my guard for pawsible bad news, my ears perked up, and my brain flooded with thoughts of what good news Mama might have for me—an increase in my treat allowance, no more vet visits, longer walks. What could it be?

But as soon as I saw the look on my Mama's face, I knew right away that my “too good to be true” pawlosophy was about to be proven right, once again!

My heart felt like it had stopped working. My head was spinning. My stomach immediately felt terribly sick. And all for good reason! Because what Mama proceeded to announce would have caused this reaction, no matter how aware I was of my pawlosophy and its pending demonstration in my life.

“Floof,” she said, “I’m going to be heading to Australia for three weeks to visit my brother and the family over the holidays, and…”

What?!

I didn’t hear another word after that. My brain went into overdrive, trying to process what this all meant for me.

With just 21 words, my evening went from pawfect to absolutely pawful. This was the worst pawsible news ever! Three weeks—that's forever! And, Australia! Isn't that on the other side of the world? And I'm not invited? What was I supposed to do over the holidays now? Be on my own?

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Had Mama's head lost its brain and its mind? I ran upstairs to see if there was any evidence of this terrible news. And sure enough, there was Mama's suitcase. OPEN. Ready to be packed. OMD (remember, that means oh my dog)! She wasn't joking. I had to think really fast on my paws. I could hear Mama coming up the stairs to see where I'd gone. I had to stop the craziness she was planning. I had to make her see and feel how much pain her holiday plans were already causing me. So, I jumped into her unpacked suitcase. I put the saddest look pawssible onto my face. I sat on my tail so it wouldn't wag when it saw Mama—just in case it hadn't understood fully how pawful this news was. And then I waited... praying my Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A worked because I didn't want to be without my Mama, espawcially over the holidays. And then Mama walked into the room. And immediately, her face looked as sad as mine. Woof! And her voice sounded as sad as my tail looked when she left the room, saying, "Come on, Floof, let's go downstairs." Woof! Woof! For sure, her head was going to now look for her brain, so she could rethink the craziness she was planning and change her mind. Woof! Woof! Woof! Mission most likely accomplished. My tail started wagging from side to side, faster and faster—so excited that my pawfect Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A had worked so quickly.

But nothing was certain! And I didn't want another "too good to be true" moment on my paws. What if my Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A wouldn't be enough to stop the craziness my Mama was planning, and I'd be alone, all by myself, for the holiday season? So I told my tail to stop wagging from side to side, faster and faster, until we knew the final truth. My heart was sad, and my head red-hot mad!

All I wanted to do was take my puppy, go snuggle up in my Zen Den, and feel sorry for myself for as long as I wanted. But I knew that was not a smart thing to do.

I needed a Plan B for the holidays in case my sad-face-in-a-suitcase plan didn't work out. So I found a quiet spot in the sun to go and think. I took a few deep breaths to calm my heart and my red-hot, mad head down so my brain could think clearly and I could figure this out. And luckily for me, even with all the drama going on, my head hadn't lost its super-smart brain or its mind, like someone else's we know, and in just one minute I had the pawfect Plan B to solve all the troubles my Mama had created.

But having a pawfect Plan B isn't enough. You have to do the work to make that plan work. So I grabbed my pawPad to send a very urgent pawmail so my pawfect Plan B could be confirmed, and I could go and snooze in peace in my Zen Den for as long as I wanted. Now, I'm sure you want to know what my pawfect Plan B was, right? These two clues should help! Pawmail To: info@thefunhouse.com Pawmail Subject: VIP Holiday Reservation

Brilliant, right?

Get a reservation for the holidays at the Fun

House with my best-in-the-world, super-cool 2nd family—Dominic, Christina, and, of course, Luca! If they had a spot for me, then my holiday would be pawsome as the one my Mama had apparently already planned for herself.

My tail started wagging from side to side, faster and faster—so excited about how clever my Fun House Reservation Plan B was and the thought of spending the holidays with my best friend, Luca.

But I did not want another "too good to be true" moment on my paws. And nothing was certain yet. What if my Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A wasn't good enough to stop all the craziness my Mama was planning? What if we didn't get a reservation at the Fun House for the holidays? We had to remember that my pawfect Plan B was also a very big plan. We were asking for a spot for three full weeks, at very short notice, at the busiest time of the year, at the absolute best holiday destination if you can't be with your Mama. And to add to this, my best-in-the-world, super-cool 2nd family has other family besides me—who probably made their holiday reservations at the Fun House long in advance. So there was a real pawsibility that this time, there just might not be a spot for us at the Fun House. And then my pawfect Fun House Reservation Plan B would not be a pawfectly useless plan. So I told my tail to stop wagging from side to side, faster and faster, until we knew the final truth.

I thought I'd done all I could to fix the big, stressful mess my Mama had made for my life, so I headed to my Zen Den to go wait for what I hoped would be a pawsitive response from info@thefunhouse.com. Once I was settled in my Zen Den, which didn't feel so Zen right then, I noticed my tail had stopped wagging from side to side, faster and faster without any reminders, my heart felt as heavy as one hundred pounds of treats, which meant my face must still have been looking pawfully sad, and my head was so sore from all these new worries I never expected to have. And I knew this was all because of how much I would miss my Mama if she left me at home over the holidays, for three full weeks.

And that's when my super-smart brain reminded me that I was lying around, waiting for news I didn't want to need, not even for one short day. What I wanted was for my Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A to work, and for my Mama's head to go find her brain so she could rethink the craziness she was planning and change her mind, so we could be together for the holidays like I thought we'd be. What was I thinking? I didn't have time to be lying around, hoping for the best, only to find out later that my Sad-face-in-a-suitcase Plan A was a too-good-to-be-true plan and I should have done more to make it work or end up at the Fun House for the holidays when I was expecting to be with my Mama and realize I did nothing to make this change of plan easier for myself. I needed a Plan C that was even bigger and better than Plan A or Plan B. I thought for one minute, then two, then three, and that's when my super-smart brain came up with my pawfect Bonus Plan C.

And immediately I noticed my tail had started wagging from side to side, faster and faster—so excited about how clever my pawfect Bonus Plan C was. But I had to tell it to stop and be still, to drag and not wag, until we knew the final truth.

Then I got up from my super comfy Zen Den, where I could easily have stayed, to go do the work to make my pawfect Bonus Plan C work.

The Goal: Help Plan A work but also secure a massive treat bonus to help me overcome my sadness and recover from all the stress, regardless of who I spend my holidays with. The Strategy: Make sure Mama is consistently reminded how sad and heavy my heart feels about her choosing to go halfway around the world for three full weeks over the holidays to be with family and not take me along. This will automatically remind her of what she does when she feels guilty or sees me really sad—gives me treats proportionate to the magnitude of the situation. And in this case, I believe I said my heart felt as heavy as one hundred pounds of treats from the sadness I was experiencing.

The Action: Instead of going and lying in my Zen Den hoping for the best, I headed over to lie tightly right next to Mama on her bed and transfer the full weight of my sadness to her for as long as was needed for my pawfect Treat Bonus Plan C to work. This should be a paw dunk! Paws crossed, my pawfect Treat Bonus Plan C comes together. I'll keep you pawsted!

In the meantime, I hope you have the best holiday season and that yours turns out to be better than you believe can be true.

Toffy xoxo

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