Gunther makes a friend.

I did speak to my sweet older sister Carol today.  She sounded upbeat and chipper.  Yesterday her great grandson, Wyatt Rohrer, was born to Joey and his wife Jamie.  Thus, Wyatt is my great-grand-nephew.

Today I didn’t walk Gunther for his first-thing-in-the-morning-bowel-movement; I let him out of the house, thinking I would lock him up in the backyard.  Worse luck!  Just then a guy with a great big dog was walking in front of the house, so G. ran barking out to the front sidewalk.  I ducked guiltily into the back door.  I had been seen.  I walked through the house to the front door, stepped outside and proclaimed my apology.  The guy’s dog was looking peckish as G. barked and feinted and jabbed.  The b.d. looked like a brown labrador with a huge yellow harness.  The guy smiled when I said I was sorry, and he quickly accepted my apology.  We chatted briefly about how our dogs enjoy other dogs for sporting about.

I have said several times before how important it is to accept a sincere apology.  Nothing is quite like the crushed feeling one gets when an apology goes unacknowledged or unaccepted.  I once allowed an apology to hang in the air like an unshaken hand.

Perhaps 10 years ago, I was working for an infusion service as a pharmacist, and while visiting a patient in her home, I saw she needed her dressing changed on her special central intravenous catheter.  For some reason time was running short.  I phoned our nurse, a woman named Judy.  No answer.  Judy was supposed to be on call!  Other nurses always answered right away.  Well, the patient was inconvenienced and I was put in a bad light.  An hour or so later Judy returned my call, stating she had been having supper with her husband and had forgotten to turn on her phone.   I gave her the word about the patient needing her services.  Judy apologized to me.  I ignored her apology.

Some time later — months, maybe — the shoe was on the other foot and I apologized to Judy, but she didn’t accept my apology.  Wow it hurt.  I felt like a big stupid bitch.  I felt like the hurt from her not accepting my apology was way out of proportion to the reason I had apologized in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t make up the rule about accepting apologies.  I got it from a man who wrote a book about Tibetan Buddhism.  It was one of his rules for good living.  Another was to always give money to those who beg from you.  But I digress.

As I said, Gunther darted away freely chasing after the man with the large dog, and I had almost lost hope of seeing him again.  My dog, I mean.  Such a sad ending to a great relationship, I reflected.

I re-entered my house and a few moments later, through the window, I watched Gunther relieving himself of some excrement on the neighbor’s lawn.  Of course, Gunther trotted home after that and sat on our porch.

Did I go out and pick up the poop?  No.  I will apologize if and when the poop is traced to G.