Help Me Understand This

I just finished spending over an hour pulling nutgrass weeds out of our flowerbed. The grass in the YARD is dead from last year's water restrictions, but in the flowerbeds? It's flourishing.

I was sitting there, in my old lady gardening outfit of long-sleeved shirt, big hat and ginormous sunglasses, industriously pulling up the weeds and talking to Layla. She was under great stress due to the fact I'd given her a rawhide bone and I was messing with the only dirt area she had access to.

What should she DO?? She had a wonderful new bone, a situation which DEMANDS she bury and/or hide said bone immediately and stand guard over it for the rest of eternity (or until one of us gets sick of her nutso behavior and takes it away from her). One of Joseph's fondest memories is of Roger, taking a bone away from Layla, holding it in front of her face and saying, "See THIS?" and then chunking it in the trash. You gotta get your laughs where you can, I guess.

Now, why Layla doesn't just settle down and EAT the bone, I have no idea. Probably for the same reason I optimistically plant flowers every year (okay, I have ROGER plant the flowers, but I have the important job of pointing out where they should go).

I think I want a gorgeous back yard, I just don't want to do the work required to GET that yard, and it makes me crazy to see weeds and grass, growing and thriving, in my carefully planned bed. Layla thinks she wants a bone, then, when she GETS a bone, she stresses over the responsibility for hiding that bone, instead of just relaxing and enjoying the bone.

There's a lesson in here somewhere for us OCD types, but I'm too tired to figure it out.