We all have our reasons. I realized this today as mom called me incorrigible for the millionth time. There I was (minding my own business) conducting my usual after-dinner scavenge all over her clothes and bam. There’s that word again. Incorrigible.
I figured its about time I gain a better understanding of this word, as it differs from most words (like cute, lovable, and adorable) that I’m more accustomed to being called. Boy, was I in for a surprise. Bing defines incorrigible as “impossible or very difficult to correct or reform…unruly and unmanageable.”
At first I wasn’t sure how I felt about this word being on the aforementioned list of adjectives with which I prefer to associate myself. I wouldn’t consider myself unruly or unmanageable. And I have my reasons. I’m not ashamed when my people call me a multipurpose vacuum cleaner/broom combination. It’s true – I do indeed seize even the teeny tiniest little scraps the moment they hit the floor. I won’t deny that I scavenge and beg even though I get scolded for it. Because I have my reasons.
I can remember when I was living on the streets and we ate whatever we could find. I know what hunger (to the point of starvation) feels like. When I close my eyes, I can still remember the words of the doggie doctors at the humane society when I was first taken in there. “He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.” And I hadn’t. These memories have developed into habits I do indeed struggle to break.
I’m convinced this is probably why my people call me needy from time to time as well. Lately I’ve perfected the skill of pawing at dad’s feet when I want something. I don’t think he always fancies it (out comes that incorrigible word again), but I don’t let that bother me. My people get their fair share of snuggles, and I am not shy with showing affection with visitors.
If I recall correctly, Marley (a personal idol of mine of John Grogan’s Marley & Me) also earned the incorrigible nickname a great deal. Mr. Obedience-School-Drop-Out himself. The way I see it, I’m in good company. And like Marley, I have my reasons.
My incorrigible nature runs deep. It’s an ode to my past as I live my present. And that is something I refuse to change. If that makes me incorrigible, then so be it. Because I aspire to be like Marley, who was incorrigible in good ways that outweighed the bad.
“A dog doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his,” Grogan wrote. “(Marley) taught us the art of unqualified love. How to give it, how to accept it. Where there is that, most other pieces fall into place.” What do you know? Some things are worth being incorrigible about.
Oh Wiley, that’s not fair you’re not incorrigible 😦 You’re the cutest, sweetest, most adorable fur baby ever…well, next to Cally of course 😉
I am humbled by your kindness, dear Lyn. Please give my best to Cally! 🙂
I think we all have our reasons, even the bipeds :o) I couldn’t read the Marley-book to the end, that was too sad. (my granny marked the page with a paperclip, where it started to get sad and so we only read the funny part)
If I haven’t already said so, I love your use of the word bipeds in reference to our people. Very clever, but then again, I would expect no less from you. Thank goodness for granny and her paperclip – it is definitely a tearjerker toward the end! Mom cries every time!
Lots of love,
Oh! That face! Must have taken that right after looking up “incorrigible!” You are part terrior, yes? There, Wyles. That is reason enough. :0 HuntMode
Indeed, I am part terrier. Which means I’m all fun! 🙂 There is reason enough!
All dogs have to be incorrigible now and again Wiley, it’s part of what makes us love them (and especially terriers)!
I suppose you’re right…a little bit of incorrigible makes us terriers who we are. Thanks for the reminder!
Lots of love,
Reblogged this on Wiley's Wisdom and commented:
It’s not a thing I’m ashamed of.
I am incorrigible too. And it’s because of my past. Like you, I had a really rough hungry patch where I lived off water for a couple of days…so when my husband gives me grief for probably having too much food stored in cabinet, I just turn around and give him the big brown sad-eyed thing. He remembers then and gives me a hug. And long ago, he stopped fussng at me for carrying a bag of cat and of dog food in my car so if I can and am able, I can leave some for a hungry dog or cat on the street. It seems about once a month, I find such. usually they run away and hide just out of my reach, but I put the food down and then call the SPCA to report it. I hope I help some. Because I know what it is like to live on water.