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Trust, Take Three

Trust, Take Three

Trust, Take Three

I met a dog named Prince at the shelter a couple of weeks ago. He was a sweet peanut who looked like a cross between Timon from Lion King and Hobbes from the iconic comic book strip. As I sat on the floor with him nestled in the crook of my arm while I rubbed his belly and he lazily smiled, I thought, “I’m not ready.” Then I remembered that I wasn’t ready when Gavin found me either.

My upcoming week looked bananas busy, so logistically, bringing Prince home would have been unfair. And March 18th would have been Gavin’s tenth Gotcha Day. I didn’t think my heart could handle processing the big feelings I anticipated and letting a dog decompress and tell me if my home, environment, and life might help him flourish.

So, I told the universe that if Prince were still at the shelter when I returned the following Monday, I’d talk to the foster and adoption team. The next day, everywhere I looked, I saw the word “prince.” And I was sure Finn sent me a sign when I suddenly reminded myself that he was born in 1999. Sorry for the earworm.

However, our kitchen day went haywire when Felix started spewing 180 degrees of product all over me, and we had to cool, bag up, and freeze what product we could while I tried to find someone to fix our piston filler. Fortunately, Mark, the fantastic Task Rabbit, stuck with me for three hours Wednesday, troubleshooting and fixing our filling machine, despite the manufacturer describing incorrect rewiring. 

When Felix started acting up again this week, I called the manufacturer again. I’ve been asking for three years since I purchased her what we can do proactively maintenance-wise and what to watch for to prevent issues because when Felix is fussy, we can get hurt and lose the product we’ve spent hours making, costing us a whole kitchen day.

As I sat on the phone yesterday with the representative, he finally described ways he’d suggest priming the piston filler before filling our pouches. My team and I looked at each other, smirking but knowing we wouldn’t do what he was implying as it would jar and move the machine even more than our thick product does, and we’d end up with dog treats all over us.

I hung up the speaker phone, and Cammie said as I was thinking, “that sounds dangerous,” so we discussed what we all knew to be the best plan for us. After scalding sardines and cream cheese sprays all over you or piping peanut butter and blueberries ruin your clothes, you learn a thing or two about how to prevent it from happening again. I was so grateful for their trust in me to keep them safe and my trust in them that once we adjust our process, they stick to it because they care as much about the integrity of what we make as I do.

My little Prince was adopted, and I have to trust and hope that he’s loved and cared for the way he deserves. And, I trust that when it’s right, the next dog who’ll steal my heart will find me.

May we all trust ourselves, our journeys, and the trajectory of our lives.

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