Cognitive dissonance

I don't think dogs experience cognitive dissonance. One of two conflicting ideas pushes the other out. There is no room for ambivalence. Pick one, go for one. But I'm full of it. Ambivalence, that is.

(Does it seem strange to talk about dogs and work? I don't think so. Even the fluffy breeds make play their careers. But mine is a working dog, Australian Shepherd and Heeler, and she must work. It's in her genes. Since I have failed to provide her with a herd of cattle to drive, she has settled for herding geese and ducks, patrolling the yard, hunting small game and pointing at other birds. She makes do. So do I.)

Since the job hasn't ended yet, today was a work day. We don't know exactly what the "plan" will be for shrinking the program, but it's pretty certain I'll be gone March 6. The cuts will likely follow the simple rules of seniority. Simplicity is the easiest kind of fairness, and that trumps almost everything in the making of hard decisions.

And simplicity is, of course, how a dog operates. Bad smell? Roll in it. Squirrel moving? Chase it. People to cut? Last hired, first fired.

The cognitive dissonance comes from spending two days at the main office planning and training. Getting certified in performing tasks we won't be performing, getting bugs out of new computer programs we won't be using, checking calendars for dates we won't be meeting.

Tomorrow we're back out in the field as if nothing had happened. Five days work in three days, the usual.

It's kind of nuts, really, this sitting around a table, swords over our heads, acting as if all is well.  I struggle with the swords and the pretense. I'm not good at that.

But then my dogself rises. This work we're doing is what's here, now, all this busy planning/training/pretending. I step into it, I fill the moment and the work, with all of me. And it returns the favor.

Woof!

Time flies. As long as I'm working, the sick-stomach-feel stays at bay. All approach, no avoidance.

Which is why we love it, those of us who love it. Yes?