Thirty–something speaks
I resolve not to drink out of the toilet

Mike Maddock

It’s that time of year again when millions of people around the world resolve to make themselves better human beings. Some pledge to start exercising. Others will go to church more often. Many people will finally get their finances in order. The health clubs will get their usual January rush, and there will be an increased demand for lettuce and low–fat salad dressings for a couple of months. The holiday season will end, and it will be time to get things back in order. Millions of people will try and get themselves together again.

I’m one of those of people. I do it to myself every year.

I wipe the cobwebs off my weights and clean the dust off my elliptical machine in hopes of transforming myself into some sort of lean, muscular picture of health. But by March, I’m usually more of a tired and sore picture of pity. The salads give way to chili–cheeseburgers and any progress in eliminating the tire around my waistband is gone quicker than you can say, “Super–size it!”

That’s why this year I’m keeping my expectations low and looking for easier times in my next life. In this life, sit–ups and 30–minute stints on the elliptical machine are lucky to make it through spring. That’s why I’ve decided in my next life I want to come back as a dog so I won’t have to worry about such things. Dogs have it made. Sure, they usually only live 10 to 15 years, and their dinner comes out of a bag, but who cares when the biggest worry they have is finding someone to scratch them behind the ears on occasion.

Dogs don’t have to bother with New Year’s resolutions, and if they did, what could they possibly be?

“I, Fido, resolve not to drink out of the toilet. I will keep the sniffing of my friends’ hind–quarters to a minimum, and I will quit licking myself inappropriately in the front yard. I will sleep 20 hours–a–day as opposed to my standard 23, and I will stop barking at the neighbor’s garbage can. The last of my goals for the New Year is to make myself available for belly–rubs as often as possible.”

What could be better than that? While I’m sweating profusely and popping Ibuprofen just to avoid going up another pant size, dogs are searching desperately for more comfortable places to lie down. While I worry about house payments and gas bills, dogs are trying to decide which bone to chew.

Whoever came up with the expression “working like a dog” must have been in the Alaskan sledding business, because around my house the toughest thing my dog does all day is find just the right spot to relieve himself.

I will admit sometimes life can be a bit challenging for my dog once in a while. He does live in a house with three young children. Attention is not scarce. In fact, it’s probably a little too much sometimes. My two girls treat him like a Barbie doll and my four–year–old son thinks he makes a nice target for his across–the–living–room dive–bombs. But other than that, the dog still has it pretty good.

So I’ll keep doing my usual sit–ups until spring arrives, but I’m looking forward to some nice belly– rubs and a good 20–hour nap or two.

mike@thecolumbiastar.com