My friend Sonnie had the coolest house ever, because it was up in the bush with 100 acres (like Winnie the Pooh) to roam around in, and wallabies and possums (cute Australian ones, not those scary-looking American ones), and her Mum cooked the best mashed potatoes and her Dad’d light the fire and the whole house would feel toasty and cozy, AND she had an electric blanket, even on her spare bed, so I’d leave it on full the entire night even though I ended up kicking off all the blankets because I was too hot to sleep.
I loved Sonnie. She was like, my best friend, or one of them, anyway.*
I loved staying at Sonnie’s house, but I got nervous every time, because of the monsters, and I really couldn’t do anything about them either.
There were five of them. Hairy, running thing, with teeth. In the house. With me. I tried not to act too frightened around them because I knew they fed on fear, but I made sure I kept close to Sonnie, and didn’t let my guard down, and especially, didn’t run.
I still loved going there. And it helped that Sonnie didn’t at all think of those monsters as Hairy Running Things with Teeth. She just called them “the dogs”, and she patted them and ran with them and kicked them out of her way when they tried to nuzzle up to her bottom and said “garn” in affectionate tones (“Garn” is Australian for “please leave me alone”). Sonnie eyed my fright with care, but with complete lack of understanding. And that, in itself, helped.
Sometimes, but not that often, Sonnie came to stay at my place. I didn’t have a spare bed so she had to sleep on a mattress on the floor, and I didn’t have a wood fire or an electric blanket. And…she was scared of my cats!
What’s with that? Who is scared of cats? They’re cute and fluffy and purry and warm and snuggle in your lap, and…and Sonnie thought of them as Jumping Things with Claws.
Sure cats jump, and sure, they scratch too. I’ve had cats all my life and I’ve been scratched – and bitten – more times than I can count. That’s okay, it’s not terrible or anything. It’s not like dogs can do.
Oh. I should tell you here…I’ve never actually been bitten by a dog. Once, though, when I was five, a black snarly dog ran at me, and he ran so close he nearly got me and I only got inside my house and the screen door shut by barely a whisker. And another time when my Mum was walking with me and my friend-from-up-the-road in the dark suddenly my friend screamed, and when my Mum asked her what was wrong she said a Dog had bitten her. There was Blood. I saw. Dogs are Dangerous.
Now here’s a thing, an important thing that I’m learning right now: Sonnie and I live in exactly the same world, and the dogs in my world are exactly the same as the ones in hers. Experience colours our perception, especially early-childhood chased-by-snarly-dog experiences. Or people coming to school with cat-scratches on their arm experiences.
It Doesn’t. Mean. We’re. Right.
Get what I’m saying? It’s kind of big.
I’m realizing I’ve CHOSEN to believe certain things, and, to make things worse, I’ve chosen to remember and focus on the things that agree with that decision (remembering the bad dogs), and ignored the evidence that doesn’t agree (all the friendly dogs who never once bark at me).
Are there things that hold YOU back in life? I know what they are for me (one is talking to people). Maybe it’s time for a mental spring-clean.
Care to join me?
*she still is one of my best friends. Except she’s not on Facebook and doesn’t read blogs so she has no idea I’m talking about her. Hi Sonnie! *waves* And she still has dogs…but these ones are nice 🙂
I think YOU are one talented writer. Keep up the good work. I am going to reblog this but I need to do some thinking about the context from which I want my readers to connect to what you are saying.
Thank you so much!!!
Just checked out your blog too (LOVE those photos), and my husband, a chronic pain sufferer, is about to go and do some reading there. I love the blogosphere! 🙂
LOL! I’m a cat person, too. Dogs – ewwww. I used to be scared of them. In fact I once was chased by a Chihuahua, yes, one of those tiny itty-bitty dogs, and I ran for my life! But cats – wonderful, disdainful creatures – pity I am allergic to them. 😦
HAHA! Reminds me of the first time I visited my now-husband’s place. I knocked on the door and was greeted by a cacophony of barks and howls. I nearly wet myself! Turned out to be an overweight daschund and a fluff-ball on legs.
Got used to them. Married him. He was worth getting over my fear of dogs for.
American possums are nasty, gross, terrifying things. I’ll post a picture to your wall.
I love this post.
Thanks Suze! Yes, I googled American possums this morning as I was writing this. Eerrrggh. Have you seen Aussie ones? They’re cute as. Every so often Sonnie and her family would have to raise an orphaned one, or an orphaned wallaby, and seeing them was just a delight. Except for the time the possum weed on me.
I love this too Megan. Its something I think we can all find some truth in, sometimes we only look at what validates our own beliefs (even when they are developed through unlikely occurrences). You are a great writer. This would be good for my practice, can I print it out – I might pull it out on the odd occasion with a suitable person, its not too confrontational but get the point access beautifully.
Lisa thanks! And yes, feel free to print it out and use it whenever. Wow, I feel honoured!! 🙂
Monsers. We all have them and you are right. It is time to spring clean our minds and figure out what are the real monsters and which are the ones we decided were monsters. I would have liked Sonnie.
I just love the way you write, you bring a smile to me everytime
thank you!!! That’s so sweet 🙂