Beam Me Up, Scottie!
It is amazing what you can get at Macy’s at Union Square in San Francisco.
I thought my wife Jill had gone there to get a pair of cheap (read that as “cheap,” not inexpensive) reading glasses.
Instead, we left with a dog.
Jill’s phone rang just as we got into Macy’s.
“Really! Are you serious? He is ours?” Jill said.
“What did you mean, ‘he is ours?’’’ I asked when she ended her call.
“You remember, I put in an application to get a rescue dog, and …WE GOT HIM!”
“WHAAAAT?” came my reply.
“Remember, you said you wanted a big dog. Well, now you will have one!”
Our newest member of our family is Scottie, a 12-week-old “Golden Mountain Dog.” Scottie was rescued along the side of a highway in South Carolina, along with his two siblings, Josie, and Tux. According to the wonderful animal rescue people, Scottie’s mom was a voluptuous Bernese Mountain Dog who had a sixty second encounter with a cad of a Golden Retriever. Given the demise of the canine game of “Fetch,” the Golden Retriever had nothing of monetary value to deliver to their master, much less to support three ravenously hungry puppies. Thus, the mother, Bernese, decided to give Scottie and his siblings up for adoption.
What can I say? I am quite smitten with Scottie.
We have only had Scottie since last Sunday thus, there are several minutes of his young life that we have not been able to capture on film, but what I will tell you is this:
Scottie will make an excellent executive search consultant. He digs and digs and digs in the backyard until he finds what he wants. He is relentless, even if he could be a bit more discriminating about where he digs.
Scottie is very caring. I mean, this dog really, truly gives a crap. All over the backyard. My life has turned into a smelly scavenger hunt, bagging Scottie’s repurposed food. Fortunately, I did a four-year stint as a bagboy at Miles Markets on Timberlake Road in Lynchburg, Virginia – “The Home of Everyday Low Prices” – and I am really good at putting crap in bags.
Scottie reminds me of LeBron James – as Scottie whines all night until he gets the call that he wants.
The takeaway from all of this?
Let us remember the immortal words of the great philosopher Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson: “Morning sunshines.. Big dogs eat, lil’ puppies stay on the front porch. Let’s go to work.”
I need to go to work!
Please send searches to me – big CEO searches, little CEO searches, board searches, bored searches, your most important operating roles. Lots of ‘em. Scottie is going to be at least eighty pounds, and he appears to have a voracious appetite. You got to get the doggie bed, and the shots, and the chip implanted, and all the toys, and before you know it, you have bought an episode of “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”!
Geez, I just realized I am going to need to start saving for his college years…
Scottie can learn to roll over, but I cannot.
I am a lucky man…
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