Nero and the Boxer

This is a timeless story that has served, at various times in my life, as a story of courage and hope…and at other times, a story of the futility of being pissed on every damn day.

We had a charming little dog when I was a kid named Nero. A Chihuahua mix, but the blend made him look like a tiny, tiny German Shepard. He was a little man of attitude. If you don’t know the word “moxie”, look it up. He was handsome and he knew it, fearless, but with an endless supply of love and loyalty.

He was also eternally optimistic.

Each morning, he would bounce out the front door, down the sidewalk, barking the world awake. And, more mornings than not, waiting for him at the end of the sidewalk, on the other side of the fence, was The Boxer.

Another handsome man, but more aggressive in his masculinity.

Nero would stop to say hello. The Boxer would piss in his face. Not just a little. A long, warm, yellow stream that thoroughly wet Nero’s face, chest, and back. Then, The Boxer would scratch the grass with his hind legs and be on his way. No doubt there were other small dogs to piss on.

Nero, however, needed a bath. What charms me about this, even now, is that Nero never looked embarrassed. He took it in his stride. It’s possible he thought that’s what happened to you every morning.

That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. Every morning there is somebody waiting to piss on you. What matters is what you do next. I suggest you take a bath, and then take on the day with a gleam in your eye.