When I was young I wanted to be a teacher. I’d put all my stuffed animals in a circle and I’d take roll call to make sure no one was absent. Orange Dog, Pink Bunny, Ted E. White, they were all present. I developed lesson plans, which consisted mostly of recess, lunch, and art classes, but then as I got older, I realized I didn’t like children. My becoming a teacher was in no ones best interest and a career inspiring future generations quickly fizzled. Instead I became a cop.
I became a cop because I didn’t need a college education, although now, a college education is preferred and incentives are given for having a degree, and I didn’t need any specific skills that are required for many other jobs. I also needed a job that had health insurance and some sort of stability. My being laid-off all the time wasn’t gonna pay my rent.
And now almost twenty-five years later, I’m still a cop and I hate it.
I am stuck in a rut and I don’t know how to drag myself out of it. I don’t recall ever having dreams as a child, other than becoming a teacher. There were things that I loved to do, like drawing, reading, being outdoors, and playing sports, but never did I think I could earn money doing my hobbies.
I guess I always thought adulthood was getting a blah-blah job to support oneself and being responsible, which meant paying bills and going to work everyday. Being happy was a bonus, but not a requirement. I suppose watching my father in the evenings after his coming home from work and seeing the dynamics of my parent’s marriage was the basis for this opinion, but it is a belief that has stuck with me throughout my life. My parents supported me in whatever I did, but I don’t recall them ever encouraging me to dream beyond my means. I lived day by day by day, not once thinking about my future.
And now almost forty-eight years later, my future is here and I hate it.
It wasn’t until 2004 when I met my husband that I started to gain confidence and to think beyond each day. It was he who encouraged me to dream and move beyond who I was at that moment.
By then I had been a cop for almost thirteen years and knew of nothing else. It had become my comfort zone. Quitting my job wasn’t an option, because I still didn’t have a degree, and in my opinion, no real marketable skills. Plus, I was making good money and I didn’t want to go back to earning minimum wage while I “found myself”. Being a responsible adult kept me bound to my job, because how else was I to pay our bills?
My mother had stopped working when I was sixteen years old. We were a one income family and I saw the difficulties they had because of that. I also saw how my mother relied on my father for everything, because he was the “bread winner” of the family. I promised myself I would not be like them in that regard. I had grown to be independent in that I would make my own money and rely on no man to take care of me. My husband and I were partners, a team, and I was perfectly capable of contributing to our household income. I was not going to be a stay-at-home wife, which meant I would stay at the job I hated.
I continued working, but began pursuing my interests in my spare time. My passion for photography and writing exploded and I often spent my days wandering the city with both camera, and husband, in tow taking pictures, and many an hour at the computer writing short stories and blogging.
With my husband came new interests, like hiking and NASCAR, and over the years we’ve developed interests together, like traveling and motorcycles. Our two incomes helped us to be able to take vacations and travel (usually to National Parks where I’d take lots of pictures), and helped us live comfortably.
I am in a rut, because although I now have the confidence and drive to follow my passions, I still have bills to pay and that job that I’ve had such a love/hate relationship with still pays really well.
I am three short years away from retirement, but my mind is already dreaming to the time when I can travel, write, and take photos full time and perhaps earn some money while doing it. However, I am impatient and want that time to be now. I don’t want to wait, because I have a tremendous fear that when I am able to finally retire, I won’t be able to do the things I want to do, because I’ll be dead.
When I was young, age was never a factor. I’d live forever and there will always be time. Time to work, time to play, time to do everything. Now that I am older, I find that time is fickle, time is misleading, time is selfish and time will kill me as it has already killed some of my friends.
I don’t want to be part of that statistic of people who retire and die within the first year. Or who never got the chance to retire, but died while toiling away at a job they didn’t like. I am afraid to die and that drives me to quit my job today, so that I may do the things that I should have done years ago, but never had the courage to do until now.
However, the responsible adult in me tells me otherwise and keeps asking, “Who will pay our bills?” So, come tomorrow morning, I will be back at my job, wishing I was anywhere else and hoping time will be understanding and give me one more chance to live life the way I should have.
You came into my life just when I needed you. My husband (your daddy) wanted a dog, but I was reluctant. Eight months prior, my dear kitten had passed away and it still felt like I would somehow be replacing her by getting another fur-baby, but the house was empty without the sounds of pitter-pattering paws. My heart still hurt, but I needed another baby to love. 
And then there you were. It didn’t take long for me to find you. Searching the local shelters on the Internet, I came across your profile. There was something about your little face staring into the camera that got my attention. I marked you as a favorite and continued my search, but always came back to you. I told my husband about 'this dog' I had seen on the Internet, but since we were going on a three week vacation, he didn’t want to look at any dogs until we came back. 
