The Fable of the Dirty Underpants

A life lesson from my rottweiler

January 1 is a significant holiday for me, and I personally consider it to be both the most important and inaugural day of the year. This has nothing whatsoever to do with the Gregorian calendar-- it's my dog's birthday. Chewie turned four years old yesterday!

I celebrated by giving him a small block of cheddar. He celebrated by yarfing the cheese back up onto my lap.

My dog is angel and demon in equal measure. I've never met a creature driven both by love and a compulsion to nick dirty clothing. You can almost watch the spirits on his shoulders arguing things out.

As I type this, I'm sitting on the sofa in my office snacking on some crackers. My husband is in the bath upstairs, and our sixty kilo barrel of fun absconded with his underpants.

Chewie cannot decide if it is worth stepping away from his treasure in order to ask me for a cracker. He knows he’ll get one if he sits by me, as we often share this snack. And he loves these crackers. They're the ones from Tesco with a little rosemary in them. Delicious.

The crackers are, without a doubt, the better prize. But he cannot bring himself to give up the underpants. My husband is a singer and he just did a gig in them. They're definitely sweaty. They almost certainly reek. Their next stop would have been the laundry machine. And yet, he's picking them over a surefire treat.

How often do we hold on to our own metaphorical dirty underpants instead of embracing the treats we’re offered? We got them ourselves! We worked for them! Even better, they're comforting, and smell like a loved one. But they're still, well, pants. The treat would be a far better thing to go for.

It often feels easier and safer to not apply to the job, not send the submission, not ask for advice. It's more comforting to just not create at all, but to dream about creating.

When we hold the story, painting, game, whatever in our heads… it's perfect. But when we actually start the project, everything feels a jumble. That's scary. That's vulnerable.

So today, I challenge you-- let go of your emotional support dirty underpants and go for the treat. It might bring about some fear, but in the end, it'll be satisfying (and probably stink less).