The Best Part of My Day

When I first went to work for an advertising agency almost 20 years ago, I found out pretty quickly that I knew basically nothing about the ad biz. I thought I did, mind you ... I was, after all, an avid watcher of thirtysomething back in the day. My picture of the world of advertising was skewed to say the least, with my only experience being that of lying in my bean bag chair watching Michael and Elliot come up with one brilliant idea after another ... all while shooting hoops on the miniature basketball goal in their office. Granted if you venture inside the walls of the company I work for, you'll sometimes see folks swinging a golf club or tossing a football and one of my favorite art directors could often be found wearing his Incredible Hulk hands while he worked. But I'm here to tell you that the ad biz isn't all Hulk hands or sinking a putt or catching a football by any means ... my co-workers and I work way, way, way harder than Michael and Elliot ever did.

No matter where you work, even if you love your job, I think it's safe to say that for all of us, some weeks are longer than others ... weeks when you work so hard and so long that your brain hurts. This week has been one of those weeks for me ... actually, I've had three of those weeks right in a row, and my brain's just plain old tired. I've come home the past few nights and didn't want to do anything that required me to think at all ... I wanted to just come home and do absolutely nothing, and by nothing I do mean nothing. I didn't want to think ... I didn't want to talk ... I didn't want to watch television ... I didn't want to walk ... I didn't want to cook ... I didn't want to do one darn thing other than rest my mind and attempt to recharge my batteries before I had to get up and do it all over again the next day. But ... every single night when I come home, whether I've had a tough day or a great one, there's one thing I can always count on ... one furry little reddish-brown ball of energy who is without fail always happy to see me. And every single night when he goes racing through our little house because he's so excited to see me, I say the same words to my little wiener dog pal, "Ollie boy, you're the best part of my day, buddy ... you're without a doubt the best part of my day."

As I sit here typing, my furry little pal is stretched out beside me snoring ... on his back with all four paws up in the air, his head resting on my knee. I can't help but think about how my old girl Julie used to snuggle in close to Ollie, and I can't help but wonder if he misses her the way I do. The thought of Ollie missing his buddy Julie causes me to reach over and rub his upturned pinkish-white belly, and as I do, my little dog lets go a deep and contented sigh. His nose wiggles and his paws twitch, and he barely opens his eyes long enough to see that it's me whose patting him. And you know what I realized? It's not just that he's the best part of my day that makes my heart warm when I come home ... it's knowing that I'm the best part of his day, too.