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Description
Maybe I am being a little illogical comparing my life to that of my miniature poodle's. Although we are two completely different species, not to mention completely different dreamer's, I find myself envying his position in life; his status persay. On an ordinary day, which is pretty much every day for me, my dog of less than a year can be seen waking up late at the foot of my bed and walking over to the open bathroom door- the chances of it being open are a hundred percent considering the fact that I have five younger siblings, four of which are most likely awake by now- and plopping his tiny head into the vast array of open water, actually adding up to simply be my toilet, and indulging himself for a few minutes. His indulgements will be cut short though, because of his habit of loud slops in a process of down, up, recover, down, up, recover, ext.

Soon I will hear the obnoxious echoes from my bed and crawl over to the bathroom door and grab his tiny body and manage a slight and ineffective “no” in his face. Then my day begins, just as his has, a trip to the bathroom and a quick shower. By the time I am out, the finality of his day has surfaced. Among eating, sleeping and drinking out of the toilet, my dog likes chewing, knawing and scratching at bones more than the length of his own body. It is his destiny as one might say, although I must be honest and say I haven't really spoken to him or any God's of doggy destiny, but I think that it would be fair enough to say that it is his true passion. And what a passion it is.

In the beginning it must be noted that my tiny little white dog could barely handle three-inch bones. But as his puppy years became doggy years, his strive of true passion became apparent. He began swallowing them whole- this is an exaggeration of course, but anything else would be lacking the proper justice he deserves- and also began eating them two a day. This was fine in the beginning, but the money of a college student, and even that of his parent's is in many cases limited considering among other things that out of state tuition is beyond a funny joke.

I was forced to make a change. Either destiny is cut short because of a lack of money or I step the size of the bone up. Although moving away from the dollar bones was quite heart wrenching for both of us, we found a three-dollar bone that would serve the task at hand. It was three times the size, equivalent to my dog's body length, and just as delicious.
The one thing that separates my bone lover from all other's is the fact that my dogs actually digests the bones. I have always been under the impression that bone consumption is a no no, but my little beast has proven that passion overrules anything in that might paddle in it's way. Maybe destiny is predestined after all, or maybe I am just delving to deep into the subject.
Either way I'd like to think that we are both happier now, that is my dog and myself. The new bone takes almost three days to fully digest and his my dog waking up earlier and working later into the night. Again I am unfortunately unable to have my dog comment on his new life, but I definitely think he is a changed person. I envy him full heartedly.
All those soul searching and dream discovering books, movies, television ads, ext., have done little for me. My dog on the other hand, has proved one thing is true among many. Your true passion can be achieved. Your dreams are just a bone away. Maybe you are looking in the wrong direction. Maybe you aren't looking at all, but a change of heart will come if you just desire it. My dog found his passion. Why the hell can’t you?

Description
Maybe I am being a little illogical comparing my life to that of my miniature poodle's. Although we are two completely different species, not to mention completely different dreamer's, I find myself envying his position in life; his status persay. On an ordinary day, which is pretty much every day for me, my dog of less than a year can be seen waking up late at the foot of my bed and walking over to the open bathroom door- the chances of it being open are a hundred percent considering the fact that I have five younger siblings, four of which are most likely awake by now- and plopping his tiny head into the vast array of open water, actually adding up to simply be my toilet, and indulging himself for a few minutes. His indulgements will be cut short though, because of his habit of loud slops in a process of down, up, recover, down, up, recover, ext.

Soon I will hear the obnoxious echoes from my bed and crawl over to the bathroom door and grab his tiny body and manage a slight and ineffective “no” in his face. Then my day begins, just as his has, a trip to the bathroom and a quick shower. By the time I am out, the finality of his day has surfaced. Among eating, sleeping and drinking out of the toilet, my dog likes chewing, knawing and scratching at bones more than the length of his own body. It is his destiny as one might say, although I must be honest and say I haven't really spoken to him or any God's of doggy destiny, but I think that it would be fair enough to say that it is his true passion. And what a passion it is.

In the beginning it must be noted that my tiny little white dog could barely handle three-inch bones. But as his puppy years became doggy years, his strive of true passion became apparent. He began swallowing them whole- this is an exaggeration of course, but anything else would be lacking the proper justice he deserves- and also began eating them two a day. This was fine in the beginning, but the money of a college student, and even that of his parent's is in many cases limited considering among other things that out of state tuition is beyond a funny joke.

I was forced to make a change. Either destiny is cut short because of a lack of money or I step the size of the bone up. Although moving away from the dollar bones was quite heart wrenching for both of us, we found a three-dollar bone that would serve the task at hand. It was three times the size, equivalent to my dog's body length, and just as delicious.
The one thing that separates my bone lover from all other's is the fact that my dogs actually digests the bones. I have always been under the impression that bone consumption is a no no, but my little beast has proven that passion overrules anything in that might paddle in it's way. Maybe destiny is predestined after all, or maybe I am just delving to deep into the subject.
Either way I'd like to think that we are both happier now, that is my dog and myself. The new bone takes almost three days to fully digest and his my dog waking up earlier and working later into the night. Again I am unfortunately unable to have my dog comment on his new life, but I definitely think he is a changed person. I envy him full heartedly.
All those soul searching and dream discovering books, movies, television ads, ext., have done little for me. My dog on the other hand, has proved one thing is true among many. Your true passion can be achieved. Your dreams are just a bone away. Maybe you are looking in the wrong direction. Maybe you aren't looking at all, but a change of heart will come if you just desire it. My dog found his passion. Why the hell can’t you?