Eat More. Bark Less.

Dirt’s a bark-first-ask-questions-later dog, and that’s only if he feels like it. Mud is an eat first and the only question he has is “Got any more?”

The majority of the time when Dirt barks, it's for no reason. As a matter of fact, he mostly barks at what he doesn't know. He’s not even sure why he’s barking or what he’s barking at, he just thinks barking must be the answer. Ice machine drops ice, bark. Loud car goes by, bark. See someone you know, bark. See someone you don’t know, definitely bark.

When we don’t understand something, barking and making unnecessary racket can often seem like the only logical thing to do. It portrays a sense of self-confidence. Feeling heard feels good. But underneath all the noise is Dirt's inner puppy shouting “I don't know how to handle my emotions when the doorbell rings!”

Dirt doesn't realize how barking only adds to the chaos, and if you’re not barking for a solution, you’re part of the problem. Beware of barkers in your life. They’re usually the loudest person in the room, they never ask questions and typically leave us feeling exhausted only after a short conversation. Next time you’re conversing with a barker, just imagine Dirt and the ice machine.

Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like we focus on the loud more than the wise, and it’s understandable. The loud is often entertaining and flashy and once they gain admiration, they just get louder and flashier, and occasionally they become impossible to stop. They fuel themselves from the quick validation and attention they bring out of others.

I guess I'm admitting Dirt’s an influencer of sorts, and possibly a bit of a narcissist, but I guess I’d be the enabler, so let's keep this between us.

True predators, the ones we watch Saturday morning on Nat Geo, are stealthy and camouflaged, they never want to be heard or seen and they operate in the shadows. Confidence is built in the absence of admiration. Unexpected admiration is the ultimate form of flattery, and when we search for admiration, we’re just a barking cow dog.

Mud couldn't be more of Dirt’s opposite. Quiet, reserved, methodical, authentic, even-tempered, and even a tad lazy. I use to think his reservations were the result of him not knowing or understanding the world around him, but now I know he values listening to understand as opposed to listening to respond.

Mud reminds me of a poem I read once:

A wise old owl lived in an oak,

The more he saw the less he spoke,

The less he spoke, the more he heard,

Why aren’t we all like that wise old bird?

Being an “eat it all,” Mud’s view of the world is an endless buffet of chew toys and dinner leftovers. Mud eats up opportunities and loves to experience the world around him. He’s the friend everyone in our friend group wants to be around. These types of friends get accredited with having something we don’t. They seem to have amazing jobs, wonderful families, and phenomenal hair. We forget that what they really have, is the same issues and conflicts as the rest of us, the difference is their approach to dealing with those conflicts. They’ve learned, typically from role models in their younger days, how to listen and engage in asking questions. Curiosity matters.

I view myself as a barker, (or maybe a “recovering barker”). A reflection of Dirt. Or perhaps Dirt is a reflection of me? Whether I’m right or wrong in my self-analysis, the important thing is I’m aware of it.  It’s likely a few people came to mind for you while reading this. Next time you’re around a barker, or you’re doing the barking, ask yourself, what problem is this solving? If you can’t find the answer, It’s likely because you’re hungry for experience and your voice is shot. Eat more, bark less.