I bought a commercial brand bed pad for Snoopey after having made her one from some stout fabric and a bunch of left-over stuffing material that just sat around being lazy. Every good thing has a use. Nobody and nothing is without a purpose.
Snoopey never tore at the pad I made the way Wiggles and Tiger tore at theirs. She liked it a lot, but it was bulky and hard to wash and the fabric collected and held onto dog hair like a hoarder at a multi-family garage sale snatches up knick-knacks. (There are hoarders, and then there are collectors. I argue for my part that I am the latter. Don’t try to talk me out of it.)
So I bought a bed with a zippered cover that could be removed for washing and with a recessed cushioned center. I thought it was nicer looking than the one I had made (it was) and it would be so much easier to clean. Snoopey treaded it thoroughly, snuggled down into the center, and went to sleep. Success! Gift giving is so difficult when you don’t know what others like.
And then I found her tearing apart two seams and pulling the stuffing out. So much for the perfect gift. Why, Snoopey, why?
You never quite know how someone is going to use, or abuse, a gift you give them. Perhaps they won’t use it at all.
I have been guilty of failing to use gifts on so many occasions that I have lost track. I have literally found a gift in a drawer or a closet, never touched since the day I received it, and realized, “Hey, I needed this. I could have been using this the whole time.” Why didn’t I? And I have found gifts that were stashed away for so long that they had rusted and crumbled to iron-red dust.
Gifts are meant to be used. Gifts are meant to be shared. At the very least gifts are meant for more than storing away or tearing to shreds.
Now I must learn another lesson – how to repair a dog bed so that a bulldog cannot easily rip it apart.
©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.