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A canine resolution
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"What's your New Year's resolutions gonna be?" Mama asked on the eve of 2017.

"I don't have any," I told her.

I don't. I decided years ago to be done with resolutions that are abandoned in three weeks. My diet has a continual reset every Monday; sometimes, on a daily basis.

I feel a little more in control by not setting myself up for failure within the first month of the year.

"None at all?" she asked.

I could probably do without sugar, and I should probably commit to doing yoga a few days a week.

It wouldn't hurt to maybe limit my Candy Crush-ing, too.

But those were not necessarily resolution worthy.

"I will try to be nicer," I said.

Mama didn't say anything.

"Too bad the girls can't make resolutions," I said, eyeing lazy pups sleeping on the couch. "It would be fun to see what they would come up with."

Mama giggled at the thought.

"What would they be?" she asked.

If I were to make an estimated guess, I would think Pumpkin, my intense Border Collie, would resolve to give up her sock habit. None of us can find a single sock without a hole. She also could maybe try to be nicer to Ava, the German Shepherd, but she hated her at first sight so that may be unlikely. Maybe she could at least stop stealing the bigger dog's toys and lying on them to drive her crazy.

Speaking of Ava, her list could include cutting her meals down to one, instead of three. She didn't get close to 100 pounds by skipping out on kibble. She could also promise to stop sucking on the other two's heads. She may get overwhelmed with love, but she needs to find a better way to show it then trying to fit their heads in her mouth.

"What about Doodle?" Mama asked.

Doodle is Mama's favorite, even though Doodle hides under the table and gives Mama the side eye in between trying to bark.

Doodle's list may be the longest.

Not stealing food off the counters, especially sandwiches that she drags behind the couch to eat.

No knocking the child down to steal food out of his hand.

No revving up and flipping over the furniture.

And, no more trying to dig up the floor in the mudroom.

"But those are the things that make Doodle, Doodle. If she stops all of that, Doodle won't have any kind of fun," Mama said.

She probably wouldn't.

But isn't that the point of all New Year's resolutions?

We take all the things that make us happy and stop doing them for a certain amount of time, just to fit into a societal norm.

Even when we know we aren't going to stick with them or when they get difficult to keep up, we will fall back in our old routine.

Just like Ava would return to sucking on Pumpkin's head, Pumpkin would still eat socks and Doodle would dig up flooring.

Sure, they were all behaviors the girls needed to change but they wouldn't.

And one day in the year was not going to make them want to change their ways.

Just like that one day was not going to affect me much.

"I bet the girls would want a plan of self-improvement," Mama said. "They are people pleasers."

I glanced at the couch in time to see Doodle roll over in her sleep and tumble into the floor. The chunky pup decided it was more effort than she was willing to exert to get back on the couch.

"I think they are quite fine with their goofy ways," I said.

"Maybe you should make the resolutions for them anyway."

Maybe.

But as Ava snored, Pumpkin moved, revealing the tennis ball Ava wore herself out looking for for an hour.

I had a feeling their resolution would be to not change one bit.

And I wouldn't have them any other way.

Sudie Crouch is an award winning humor columnist and author of the novel, "The Dahlman Files: A Tony Dahlman Paranormal Mystery."