Relearning a life lesson — and a feisty poodle

Today I want to tell you about a Life Lesson I've recently learned.

Or RELEARNED, "relearned" being the crucial word here.

But first I want to describe what my mother's poodle looks like when he goes after a chew toy.

OK. Please understand one thing. My mother really, really loves this poodle.

It's possible she even loves that dog MORE than she loves me. She'll deny this, of course, which is why the next time you see her, please say, "Hey! Tell me all about that little trip you took to Bear Lake with your daughter and your dog."

But I'm not bitter!

And, in fact, I can say with the best of them that my mother's poodle is a just a big old love sponge who wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless that fly happens to be chew toy.

Imagine, if you will, a chew toy sitting in the middle of my mother's living room.

Alone.

Motionless.

Like a hijacked Air France plane sitting on a darkened runway in Entebbe, Uganda. (This is a stretch, I know, but stay with me.)

At any rate, the Air France Flight 139 chew toy sits completely unaware that a daring and highly trained team of Israeli commandos in the shape of my mother's poodle is about to BURST into the living room with guns drawn.

Also blazing!

From there, an epic firefight ensues! But even the most casual observer can tell that the Air France Flight 139 chew toy doesn't stand a chance, because my mother's poodle is completely awesome when it comes to organizing and executing killer commando raids.

BOOM!

My mother's poodle snatches up the chew toy in his sleek jaws!

BOOM!

My mother's poodle growls and shakes the chew toy until it comes apart at the seams and stuffing goes flying around the room!

And when the chew toy (at last!) is merely a hollow shell of its former self, my mother's poodle drops it, then saunters away.

But not until he looks back and sneers, "Who's your daddy?"