I have a dog; Dolly. She plays inside outside.
Dolly has played inside outside for as long as I can remember. It goes like this. She sits or stands and stares at the door to the garden. We let her out. Within about two minutes, she’s at the door, barking to come in. There wasn’t anything outside she particularly wanted to do, nor is there anything inside she particularly wants to do. In her doggy head, the grass (or carpet) is always greener on the other side.
The game is endless, though to be fair, it usually does end with one of us getting bored of opening and shutting the door and ordering her to bed.
Continued restlessness is, of course, not confined to dogs. How many times have we heard someone say (if not said it ourselves) “If I can just get that job/car/house/man/woman of my dreams, my life will be much better.” I bet quite a few.
When Dolly forgets about the outside, she does dog stuff like listening, dozing, sniffing and staring plaintively at me when I’m eating. She’s generally a happy dog, with periods of wanting to play inside outside. I suspect most people are similar; generally content, with moments of agitation about their lot in life.
In my day job I work in communications. That’s PR and marketing communications, not telephones, computers or wireless technology. And I’m fascinated by behaviours. How I draft, shape and put into practice messages for audiences is what gets me out of bed. I love it.
So I always have Dolly’s view of the world close by. Connecting with people who don’t necessarily want to hear, read or watch what you’re saying – because they’re playing inside outside – isn’t straightforward. And that’s what this blog is about.