Noah trotted into our living room as if he had lived here for years. Our ninth foster dog, a Lhasa Apso mix, arrived the end of November from a shelter in Camden, New Jersey.
He was adorable, as you can see.
But there was much more to Noah than this irresistible face.
It was Noah’s “other end” that intrigued me.
As Noah spent his first night with us, sniffing around the premises, I couldn’t help but notice his enormous set of balls.
His balls were so big, they kind of got in the way of his being able to walk straight, if you know what I mean.
(No, you will NOT get a picture here of Noah’s balls – because THAT would be crossing the line – and I already feel like I’ve crossed a few lines in this blog post already)
My finding led to my calling an officer from the rescue, since according to Noah’s records, he had been neutered before he arrived.
“He doesn’t look neutered to me,” I explain on my phone call with E.
“They need to shrink,” she responded matter-of-factly. “It takes a few weeks.”
Not only did Noah have a set of balls, be he had a “set of balls” to go with his balls. From the moment he walked into our house, he owned the place. He owned the water bowl and the toys that belonged to our other foster. He owned a stuffed animal that he found in the corner of the girls’ bedroom. He owned the left side of the couch and the blanket that I put on the left side of the couch to help keep off the dog hair.
He owned them unapologetically.
While some battles ensued to reclaim items that were not for Noah’s consumption, the Barbie Dolls, shoes, and a hard covered text book that belonged to my son’s school, I could not help but admire Noah’s attitude of entitlement. For Noah, life was there for the taking. And he took.
We often talk about “entitlement” as if it’s a bad thing. We say things like, “Kids today are so entitled,” and we talk about the “entitlement complexes” of the millennials in the workplace who apparently, have very high expectations of how they should be treated by their bosses. And while a lot of entitlement is excessive and unrealistic, is a little entitlement really a bad thing?
Especially for someone like me.
If you and I are walking toward each other on the sidewalk, I am that girl who hops onto the grass as we pass each other. No, I don’t move over to give you enough room to get by, I give you the whole damn sidewalk.
A little bit of that Noah swagger could do me some good. I don’t want to take your Barbie Dolls or chew on your school books, but sharing the sidewalk seems reasonable.
Some days you may need a little more room to walk and some days it may be me. And on those days I need some extra space and feel reluctant to ask,
I'm gonna channel some of this.
Every Diva could use a set, don’t you think?