The other day hubby and I were getting ready to go to our grandson's soccer game, and I dropped one of my prescription medications on the floor as I was filling my Sunday through Saturday dispenser. A few minutes later, I got off the chair to retrieve it, and my dog Lola was there staring up at me.
And you guessed it. The pill was gone.
You have to know that it almost takes an act of war to get her to swallow her monthly flea/heart worm pill, so I questioned whether she really had gobbled up the darn thing or not.
But it was nowhere to be found.
Lola continued to vomit periodically for all that day and the next, but I'm happy to report that she's fine now. Quick action saved her life.
I guess the moral of the story is that you have to be as careful around your pets as you are around small children. I wondered how I could relate this experience to anything else in my life, and I came up with this.
I am a habitual procrastinator. Had I reached down and picked up the pill right when I dropped it, I wouldn't have this story to tell, and my little sweetheart wouldn't have had to go through all that misery.
So I made a vow to myself to work on this problem--to try to get better. Now I'm wondering how many fellow procrastinators I have out there. And if you are one, has it ever caused grief in your life? And if you aren't, any advice to those of us who are?
And just so you know, my newest book released last Monday. MISSION TO KILL is available in digital and print and will release in audio soon.