You can learn a lot from a dog.

There are picture-perfect days filled with unbelievably blue skies unfolding all around us, and we’re sometimes too focused/stressed/busy to notice. We have our hands full, trying to be responsible. Trying to please everyone.

But my dogs never miss an opportunity to bask in the sunshine. To splash in the ocean. Or roll in the sand. And I’m thankful when their shenanigans pierce my concentration enough to remind me what matters most.

I think my dogs might be brilliant. They never fail to seize the moment.

They don’t worry about what they really ought to be doing. Nor do they consider the consequences.

They don’t fear scallops that pinch their noses, nor do they think twice about hurling themselves into an emerald sea filled with big-toothed, hungry critters that could gobble them up in one swallow.

Nor do they regret a thing for more than 30 seconds.

They just go for it.

If I say ‘BOAT’, Toby practically wriggles into his personal floatation device. If I say ‘SWIMMING’, he’s climbing into my arms, so I’ll carry him out to catch a wave.

Ask if they want to go to the ‘BEACH’, and a normally mute Labrador will do her very best impression of human speech. Ignore her, and she’ll cry a soul-wrenching song of sadness. No WAY she’s missing a moment like this.

Imagine if we did everything with this level of intensity and passion. We’d enjoy sun-kissed days filled with carefree adventure, and we’d sleep like the dead while the stars emerge each night.

It may not be practical to let your pup be your guide. However, it just might be more fun.

The next time you’re pondering a big life decision, maybe you should thoughtfully weigh your options and then do what any decent canine would.

Go outside and play.

I prefer to keep my blog light and happy. So I apologize for the following rant. If it’s any consolation, I promise a happy ending.

The matter is quite simple.

If I bring my car to the dealership for multiple repairs, and not all of them are resolved, which prompts a follow-up visit to complete the repairs originally cited, is it fair for the warranty company to charge me another $250 deductible because, technically, this is a SECOND visit?

I say no.

And shouldn’t the auto dealership’s service manager fight that one out directly with the warranty company, instead of passing another $250 fee on to me, the customer? After all, the service department was negligent, costing me a second day spent stranded at the dealership (listening to loud phone talkers and tabloid television), plus additional round trip gas mileage, one trip to AutoZone, and $13.90 for coolant, so my car could limp its way back to Albany.

Mistakes happen. We all make them.

When I make a mistake, I do my very best to remedy it and communicate about it succinctly, accepting responsibility for my oversight. And I feel pretty lousy about it, too.

No client/customer, however, should have to throw a temper tantrum in order to get proper service. Nice, plain, clearly spoken English should do the trick.

My mother taught me that we have to be our own champions. We have to speak up for ourselves. We have to ask for what we want. So, if we want better service, we have to ask for it. That should be enough.

I shouldn’t have to become so outraged that I’m forced to leave the building for a mini-parking-lot-meltdown before the service provider assures me they will make things right. It’s not right. I have one more grimace-line in my already crowded forehead and three more grey hairs. Plus, I need an emergency yoga session in the fancy schmancy auto showroom just to cleanse my aura.

Despite today’s exasperating experience, I remain vigilant that great customer service does exist.

Case in point: Coach.

Not long ago, whilst scampering off to a meeting, the shiny silver buckle on my Coach purse detached and launched itself across our garage. Shortly thereafter, I was pleased to learn that Coach will repair any bag for $20 and ship it to your home upon completion. This is done for free if the purse is under a year old, or if it’s a gift, and the manager is feeling generous.

It’s supposed to take about eight weeks to get your repaired item back. But mine arrived sooner than that. In the interim, I received an unexpected courtesy phone call to update me on the status of my bag. Upon arrival at my house, I tore open the packaging to find that my purse was neatly wrapped in tissue like a brand new gift. Upon opening the purse, I discovered a personalized letter thanking me for my loyalty and for allowing Coach to repair my item.

This might seem trivial, but it’s not.

I felt valued. And I am definitely more likely to buy another Coach purse in the future, because I like the brand. And I feel like they appreciate me.

And that’s the point, isn’t it?