Calm Down

I went into a trendy restaurant today, because it’s not shaped like Peter Rabbit's cottage and I like to support their taste in flatware. I was waiting for my loatee at the bar and couldn’t help but notice a large white Husky with a tiny therapy vest “Nice dog” I say to the couple “an Alaskan ?" I ask searching for a malady - a nervous twitch in one or both of them to warrant the therapy of a dog bred for pulling bobsleds. This 30-something woman wearing cream-colored everything corrects me “It’s not an Alaskan - it’s a Chow Chow Half Cow...” Whatever, I stop listening - it doesn’t matter. That dog is as therapeutic as a Jack Russell on steroids.

But let’s say this couple needs this therapy dog in the restaurant because they're reading the menu and it’s stressful. There are decisions to be made - poached eggs with chives or scrambled eggs with caviar. Really seizures aside, this is a wrenching experience. What if they’re too full after the meal. Will their therapy dog have to rescue them, pull them off their chairs and drag them out of the restaurant like a St. Bernard in the Swiss Alps? Oh god here comes a 20-something passing by the window, sucking on his pot pen cause the stress of leaving his office two doors down to repark his Tesla has him spinning. Look it’s hard. These are complicated times. Maybe it’s time to put everybody back in Velcro. But the sound of the Velcro tearing away from each side because there are two sides, may be too loud and offend someone’s belief in hearing and then - well the twitchy truth of how we came to bringing our own pillows on planes may reveal itself - a nation with a giant pacifier the size of Texas shoved in its mouth. So pop another pill and pull your 2000 thread count covers up to your ears. It really is, oh so much.