Forgiveness: My Husband Won’t Let me Throw A Birthday Party For My Dog
The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. Mahatma Gandhi said that, and although Gandhi never had to face the trials and tribulations I have, I’m certain that he would want me to forgive my husband for not allowing me to throw my dog a small birthday party, so I did. I forgave my husband. Even though all I wanted was a cake, some party hats, 15–20 invited guests, a doggy bounce house, and maybe a guest appearance from Ashley Parker Angel. I forgave him.
It’s true that Mrs. Tiny Paws may not have that many years left. After all, she’s turning five years old, and who knows what that is in dog years? I’m certainly not going to Google it. Most people would say the only appropriate way to celebrate her brief remaining time on earth is by hiring O-Town’s Ashley Parker Angel to sing a solo version of “All Or Nothing” to her, but my husband is not most people. I forgive him for that. I forgive him so hard.
How Do I Do It?
The first thing you need to do in order to attain true forgiveness is remind yourself that the person you’re trying to forgive is an idiot. They are a literal drooling moron, and you are way better than them.
Do they hate joy? Probably. That would be the only logical explanation for hating dog birthday parties. You shouldn’t hate them back, though. You should pity them. I pity anyone who will never know the sheer delight on a dogs face when you present them with a three-tiered cake made of meat that smells like road kill.
Am I A Literal Saint?
Probably. Every day, I wake up and remind myself to forgive. I put a tiny dog party hat that will never be worn next to my bathroom mirror so each morning, my very first thought is what I’m forgiving my husband for.
I don’t just start the day with forgiveness, though. I forgive all the time. While I’m commenting on the O-Town Facebook fan page, while I’m baking dog treats and putting them in festive goody bags before throwing them in the garbage, while I’m apologizing to my dog yet again, I think about forgiveness. If only my dog was as good at forgiveness as I am. She hasn’t been the same since she told all of her friends about Ashley Parker Angel before my husband vetoed the party.
Before I got married, my mother told me that it’s important not to got to bed angry, so I don’t. I go to bed furious. You must allow the anger you feel simmering during the day to crescendo at night so you can sleep it off and start the cycle over again tomorrow. Of course, you do run the risk of many sleepless nights haunted by a ghostly chorus of “happy birthday, Mrs. Tiny Paws” that you know you’ll never get to hear in real life.
It’s worth it, though. It’s worth it to forgive, to feel the burden of seething anger lifted from you as you make the decision to divorce your husband and marry Cesar Millan. As you pack your belongings and head out of your home, you’ll feel better knowing that next year, you will get the dog birthday party you deserve.
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