Floating Ideology

There I was—half-submerged in the wading pool, my fur floating gently like a thought I almost remembered. The sun was warm. The water was cool. Mini Blue bobbed beside me like a tiny aquatic oracle.

We weren’t doing anything.
And somehow, everything felt… floatier.

"Maybe feelings are like pool toys," I said aloud.
"You have to let them drift for a bit before you decide whether to hug them or let them go."

Mini Blue nodded solemnly and spun in a slow circle. That meant agreement. Or mild dizziness. Or both.

As the day went on, I had several revelations:

• Guilt is like soggy crumbs in your fur: annoying, sticky, and best rinsed off quickly.

• Joy is the sound your paw makes when it splashes just right.

• Regret is trying to jump in dramatically and landing on your juice box.

• Peace is when the sun hits your ears just so.
  
  

Pandy came out at one point with a tray of lemon slices and politely reminded us that the pool is not a snack stew. I appreciated his grounded presence, even if I did try to eat a pool noodle by mistake.

In the end, the answers didn’t matter as much as the floating. Sometimes you don’t need a plan. Just a pool. And a plush friend who listens even when you’re upside-down and dripping.

We didn’t solve life’s mysteries.
But we sure got pruney.