I started this post almost two weeks ago, then put it aside to marinate.

Let’s get back to it.

It’s time to reminisce about my days as a young pup. Back then I fit in the inside pocket of my dad’s jacket and would peek out at the world when we visited events like outdoor flea markets and street fairs.

One sunny day we happened to be at a street fair in Somerville, NJ. There was music, food booths, crafts, and the place was hopping.

And happy.

Let me explain.

There was a guy standing on a stage, surrounded by people, and my dad said, “Look! It’s Uncle Floyd! I love Uncle Floyd!!!” Then he shouted out, “Hey Uncle Floyd! I love you man!”

Uncle Floyd turned, a big smile on his face, a balloon sculpture in his hands, and said, “Hey thanks, I love you too,” then he stopped. The next words out of his mouth made my fur stand up. “What is that thing you’re holding? Is that a dog? That’s not a dog. It’s a giant rodent. No, wait. It is a dog. It’s a Rat Terrier! Hey everyone! Look at that big guy holding that little Rat Terrier!”

My dad laughed. I growled. As far as dog insults go, that was a big one. I’m a Chihuahua, not a stinkin’ Rat Terrier. Or a rodent. It’s one of those things that could have damaged me for life, left me broken, and triggered me every time I watched a rerun of “Rat Patrol” on MeTV.

But about three seconds later I got over it. In a matter of moments Uncle Floyd made me a celebrity.

Everyone turned to look at me. My dad held me up for the crowd. People cooed, “Oh, what a cute little dog!” I wagged my tail and barked. Uncle Floyd clapped and people cheered.

We went on our way and enjoyed the rest of that happy day.

But if I was a different sort of dog? And I don’t mean a different breed, I mean one with a different mindset. Things that might have gone down an entirely different path.

I might have gotten up that morning and put on my special biscuit-box 3-D glasses that make me see insults, affronts, and personal attacks everywhere I turn. Then, instead of waiting those three seconds that transformed me into something bigger and better, I could have gone berserk and all Cujo on Uncle Floyd and the crowd.

And, instead of calling me cute, they would have wondered what my problem was, and they would have moved away from me in case my miserableness was contagious. All because I was offended, even though no harm was meant.

No. I don’t really have glasses like that. Why would I want to?

And honestly, I do look sort of like a Rat Terrier. People also confuse me for a mini-Dobie.

So what does this mean for you?

The next time you’re in the supermarket and drop all your canned goods on the floor, don’t snarl at the gal who bent down to help you pick them up. No, she doesn’t think you’re clumsy or that your knees are old and stiff and, if you bend down, you’ll never get back up. She’s probably just trying to be nice.

Or when you have your arms full of canned goods and some guy holds the door open for you as you leave the store? Don’t call him a “$%&#* sexist”. Just say thank you.

Enough with the canned goods. It’s obviously way past my lunch hour.

Everyone needs to lighten up a little. Spending your life on high alert, always ready to respond to whatever might be construed as an insult – and nowadays everything can be interpreted as an insult – can get tiring. And it makes you and everyone around you miserable.

Last week, while this post was marinating, my mom was listening to NJ radio on the computer, and she heard that Uncle Floyd Vivino died. Yes, that was quite a coincidence, especially since I hadn’t thought about that sunny day in Somerville for years.

People called the radio to share memories of him, his television show, and his years of entertainment and community service.

Everyone said the same thing. He was a brilliant man who didn’t go around telling people how smart he was. Instead, he dedicated his time to making people smile, through humor and infectious happiness. He laughed at himself and we all laughed with each other.

I think that’s a great legacy. I hope mine is half that good.

Longtime N.J. comedian, pianist ‘Uncle Floyd’ has died, family says – nj.com