Interlude: I Hope He Has a Dog
I once heard that someone I used to love had a kid who never missed a day of school.
Not one.
Not for a cold, a fever, a heartbreak — nothing.
It was publicized. Celebrated.
Like a badge of honor.
Like proof of something.
But all I could think was that poor kid.
Either he was never sick — which seems unlikely — (really?) or he was sick and still showed up, because somewhere along the line he learned that showing up mattered more than slowing down.
More than rest.
More than being okay.
It’s not really about the attendance.
It’s about the pressure. The performance.
The message that you don’t get to fall apart.
That love is earned through consistency.
That absence is weakness.
That perfection is the price of being enough.
I don’t know him.
I don’t know his story.
But I know the kind of family tree that grows kids like that.
Because I climbed out of one, too.
Today, in a moment of quiet self-pity, I called myself a jobless loser and immediately thought of one of my favorite movie lines — The Kid, with Bruce Willis.
The kid finds out what he grows up to be and says:
“I grow up to be a dogless, chickless loser.”
And honestly? Same energy.
Only I’m not dogless.(Although some days, I really, really think about it - Diana is a handful).
And I hope — more than anything —
I hope he has a dog that makes him laugh, drags him outside when it’s raining and teaches him that you don’t have to be perfect to be loved.
From the Hill, with love and fur 🐾
Thank you for sharing this. I absolutely detest the hustle culture and romanticizing work exhaustion as a badge of honor. No. Get some sleep. Hang out with your loved ones. Cuddle with your dogs/cats 🐾💜
This really resonates with me Notes, and not really the attendance itself, but the quiet pressure that sits underneath it.
The idea that showing up matters more than slowing down. That absence becomes weakness. That love is earned through consistency rather than care...
You name how those lessons get inherited, almost invisibly, and how early they teach us not to rest, not to need, not to fall apart.
What I felt most strongly was your refusal of that bargain. The wish isn’t for perfection — it’s for something that interrupts performance. Something that teaches us we’re allowed to be ordinary, tired, human.
And yes — I hope he has a dog too.
Because there’s a particular kind of love that arrives without conditions or scorekeeping. The kind that drags you outside when it’s raining, reads you in a glance, and never asks what you earned before it shows up.
That felt like the heart of this piece.
Thank you for sharing 💛