Does Your Dog Speak Latin?

It has been said that in every great culture there are warnings of allowing the ego to set in and the defenses to be dropped.

Caeser was warned, "Remember thou art but a man."

Damocles had a sword hanging over his head as to remind him that all his good fortune could be gone in an instant.

Last night I sat at home wondering with complete vanity what I am going to wear to a Gala tonight. First I took a long time trying to figure out how "gala" is pronounced in Texas.  I lived here most of my adult life and have neither attended one,nor heard the word pronounced.

A friend told me to try on a few options and send her the pictures.  Off to the closet to see what could possibly be suitable (and for a moment wishing I could just wear a suit), I took off my shirt to try the first outfit on.

My youngest daughter in my room made some sort of gagging sound and an elaborate showing of covering her eyes, lest my forty three year old body repulse her beyond all repair.

First dress on, and shoes I turn to look in the mirror. My daughter says, "Nice shoes mom, aren't those the ones you bought when you took that stripper exercise class?"

So no to the stripper shoes?

I take off the first option and almost lay it on the bed when I remember all dog and cat hair, I toss the dress safely in to my laundry basket ( the clean clothes one waiting to be folded.)

Second dress does not get much of a response, and by the third one I am discouraged and put back on my clothes that I only wear at home and to the quickie mart for coffee.

Back in my comfort zone I am secretly delighting about all fun things I am getting to do in my life. Fashion Shows, movie sets, photo shoots, winning awards, getting nominated, I am giddy with myself.

I continue to look through my rose colored glasses and focus on all the excitement. I successfully ignore the dishes in the clogged sink, the kids fighting, and the stack of papers I have yet to go through.

Just let me for a moment be fabulous.

In that mental moment of self adulation my sweet dog who has been curled up beside me awakens, looks at me and throws up all over me, my bed, my pillow, and the aforementioned comfortable yoga pants.

While getting up quickly I spill the morning's coffee all over the floor and stripper shoes which I did not earlier put away.

All illusions of glamor and self importance have been shot.  After my initial reaction and colorful expletives, I strip the bed, myself once again, and scramble for clean sheets. I kick all four legged animals out of my room and realize that in my haste I have thrown the dirty dog puke ridden sheets on the wrong laundry pile.Thus landing the offensive spew on all three clothing options for the gala.

My wallet does not permit a trip to Nordys for a new dress, and time constraints limit the dry cleaner.

I will have to sneak away to Goodwill at some point and cross my fingers.

So much for glamor.

If my dog spoke Latin instead of bile she would have been saying, "Respice post te, mortalem te esse memento."

I laughed at my folly, dodged the sword and was thankful for the reminder, even if it did mean I had to wait up for the sheets to finish washing and drying.

Yes I am mortal, flawed, and now have nothing to wear to the unpronounceable gala.

It all seems so supercilious now which will enable me to check my ego at the door and actually have a good time.

So much wisdom was gained in such a small amount of dog puke. Still, I may try to get her to speak Latin for future life lessons.