Making Accommodations
From Mia Cope
Despite the fact that I have unlimited executive authority for everything that happens at Casa de Togo, I’m a reasonable dog. My resolve to achieve such reasonableness is often tested, however. Even though Daddy signed the contract giving me full power, he sometimes forgets and makes certain demands of me. Yet, I remain calm in the heat of confrontation.
For example, this annotated transcript of an exchange between Daddy and me:
Daddy: “Don’t pull on your leash so hard! Quit walking so fast!”
Me: (Maintains dignified silence. Continues pulling just slightly faster than Daddy’s comfortable pace.)
Daddy: “Mia! Pay attention! Slow down!”
Me: (Continues with only a sideways glance at Daddy.)
Daddy: (Labored breathing.) “Mia!!!”
Me: (With a final burst of speed, I angle over directly in front of Daddy and come to a full stop, pretending to be sniffing something.)
Daddy: (Brakes suddenly. Wordless. Breathing slowly returns to normal.)
See what I did there? I never allowed the conflict to boil over. I should be the one teaching conflict resolution around here.1
I don’t want to leave the impression that I just run rough-shod over the staff at Casa de Togo. I can accommodate — sort of. I would point to another recent issue that surfaced and how I have humbly conformed my behavior. Sort of.
Over in the northwest corner of the backyard, under the canopy of crape myrtle trees, is an area I regard as almost sacred ground. It’s my go-to digging spot. Although I am fully capable of digging anywhere in the backyard, I purposefully have limited my most significant excavations to an area approximately four feet wide by five feet long.
My intentions in concentrating there are not, admittedly, entirely benevolent. No, I find the area almost irresistible. And it’s Daddy’s fault. He is ecologically inclined. As such, he keeps a compost bin adjacent to an area of the flower bed that’s approximately four feet wide by five feet long. Periodically, he empties the bin and then carefully transfers the content to the compost pile that just happens to be approximately four feet wide by five feet long. I’m not going to lie to you, the richness of the earth in that stretch of God’s creation is incredible and that’s why I’ve designated that area (approximately four feet wide by five feet long) as my preferred digging spot. I think that the secret ingredient is the decomposed coffee grounds.
During my time at Casa de Togo, Daddy has frequently encouraged me not to dig in that location. I get it. I can create a pretty large divot in a very short amount of time. And Momma isn’t overly happy either. The large concentration of coffee grounds tends to stain my paws. So out of my love and adoration of Momma and Daddy, I’ve arrived at an accommodation. Sort of.
Let me demonstrate:
The perfect solution. I go into my igloo and pretend to dig. Momma and Daddy think it’s funny. Plus, they believe that I have channeled all of my digging energy to a sterile environment. And that belief is so strong that they forget to go look in the corner of the yard. You know, the corner plot that’s approximately four feet wide by five feet long.2
Obviously, this subterfuge takes a lot of my time. But I’ve found it worthwhile. And I’ve discovered that misdirection eliminates the necessity of accommodation. Win-win.
Daddy insists that this isn’t conflict resolution, but instead, passive-aggressive behavior. But Daddy is just trying to finally win an argument — and I ignore him. I looked it up. That’s not passive-aggressive. It does look a lot like avoidance. But it works for me.
The only remaining evidence of my continued activity is the coffee color on my toes. My tongue has remarkable cleaning powers and if my timing is right, all is good before any one thinks to check.
If you ever get all the way up to our house, Mia, you can dig all you want in my compost pile. It would be easier for me if you churned it up instead of my having to use a compost auger.
Avoidance and distraction are themes of our times; I’m pleased yours are so much more benign. As to that four by five foot plot of heavenly earth, keep digging. Show them who’s in charge at Casa de Togo.