Chasing the Red Dot

Spunky, our miniature dachshund, is long gone. I wasn’t glad to see him go, but in his absence, I regained my status. When he arrived, he replaced me as king of the domain.

He was brown like lightly roasted coffee beans and just as alert. He guarded the queen of the house like secret service agents guard presidents. But there’s nothing secret about secret service agents. They’re so obvious. That’s how Spunky was. His smug authority put me in my place.

Chasing the red dot. Image of a dachshund running.

Spunky was bred to hunt but the only things he hunted were flies, bugs, mice that ran from under the wood pile, and red dots. He hated red dots like democrats hate republicans, maybe more.

I bought a laser pointer when I taught classes at one of the local colleges. The red dot was my revenge. It enflamed him. For a few moments I drove my antagonist crazy. Spunky saw the devil’s eye in the frantic dot on the floor. The only thing that excited him more was scraps of beef.

Spunky chased his antagonist around and under couches, beds, and tables. He persecuted the red dot back and forth in the hallway tirelessly. I laughed when he kept looking for the devil’s eye after I turned it off. Oh! the power. I’m smarter than a dog.

I thought of Spunky this morning when I wondered what I might post today. We love chasing red dots. Someone shows up with an issue and the hunt is on. The hair on our necks comes to attention. Fixing is in our blood.

Chasing other people’s red dots destroys you. Let people fix their own problems.

Before you chase the next red dot, ask, “Whose dot is this?” Never chase a red dot that belongs to someone else.

What’s seductive about solving other people’s problems?

How might you avoid the distraction of red dots?