Pet Affection

I had plenty of pets growing up. There were snakes, rats, hamster, ant farms and dogs, of course. I loved all of them. Some of them were none too well behaved. This was when the newspaper had a robust classified ads section, and we often scrutinized the section offering pets for sale. I don't know if the online successors of the printed classified ads have all that. It's been a very long time since I went and looked for a pet. I suppose these days you're supposed to go to the pound.

My point was that I was very fond of pets, and especially dogs. I was a typical boy in that regard. I loved every dog I had, and since I didn't have power over life or death, I eventually lost every one of those dogs. Each one was a heartbreak. Some of them maybe could have lived, if no expense was spared. I bore no ill will over the fact that expenses were spared. In retrospect, it seems like the right decision to have made.

A Man, A Dog & A Post

I saw something peculiar on my way out of the grocery store the other day. I had a few bags in my hand and I stopped just outside the door to check something on my phone. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. A terrible noise pierced the relative silence (which is to say, as silent as it ever gets in a Los Angeles neighborhood). I looked up. A big dog, tied to this big post seemingly meant to dispense circulars for the store, was dragging it behind him as he bolted into the parking lot.

It was a hell of a thing. Moments later, a man came tearing out of the grocery store after the dog. He labored greatly to calm the dog and detach it from the post (which, obviously, was not mounted in any permanent fashion). I wondered at the man's failure to properly look after his dog. It seems like something he ought to have anticipated. This burst of energetic rebellion can hardly be out of the dog's character.

What She Is Is Not

Yesterday I spoke of the neighbors' dog Gretta, and observed in discussing my larger point about her value as a listener that she has an expressive face. I think she does. She has a pretty big face anyway, and so in addition to her expressiveness she has the laudable quality of not being able to slip out of her collar the way my father's old dog Jack used to be able to do. The face, though, may be not as expressive as I think.

The human brain does a lot of things in order to make a senseless world seem sensible. It will always try to make what you see match up with what you hear, for example. It also takes something you don't understand well, such as a dog, and make it seem like something you do understand a little, like a person. Gretta is a good example. I don't truly know what's going on in her head, or what makes her do what she does. My brain tries to convince me otherwise.

The Sessions

I spoke yesterday of trying to talk the neighbors' dog Gretta out of fighting with other dogs when I walk her. Of course, I don't think she understands the words, but the tone of voice I use can't help but make an impression. She repays me for talking to her by listening. Good listeners are rare, and they tend to be among the most helpful when one is working through problems or feelings. I always think of Carson McCullers' book "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter", where that is the central conceit.

Gretta will listen all day long, and I take advantage, because most people I talk to insist on having their say from time to time. Gretta never does. In truth, I don't know that I've really even heard her bark. She has an expressive face though. Anyway, I talk to her through most walks. A lot of people listen to music while walking a dog, but I think that would be rude. I wouldn't do that with a person, and I treat dogs like people since it's too hard to learn more than one way of treating anyone or anything.

Many Enemies (But Not Sea Anemones)

Yes, here is another item about the neighbors' dog Gretta. You may recall that yesterday I spoke of her eagerness to kill (or to love) a squirrel. She seems to have a lot of adversaries out there. She must be a terribly self-hating creature, because it's not humans who are the problem, although it is humans who most fear her wrath. I don't fault them, really. When a man who looks like me is walking a pit bull looking like her, it's natural to assume I'm her dog-fighting trainer and the walk is part of her regimen.

Really, she loves people. and can in fact be too demonstrative of that fact, considering peoples' fears. Her enemies are chiefly the other dogs out there, and I dread the inevitable passing of two ships in the night every time I spot someone else walking a dog in the opposite direction that I am. I imagine they feel likewise. Actually, if it's an attractive woman walking the other dog, I'm not so sorry for the flash, but that is rare.

Climbing The Ladder

One of the things that motivates the neighbors' dog Gretta to attain a high level of energy is a foe. She hates the squirrels in the park, or she loves them. Either way, the feelings are strong enough that she wants very badly to get close to one, and I must report that my attempts to defuse the situation by relating a story about how I've heard that Germans cannot pronounce the English word 'squirrel' are invariably unsuccessful.

Her efforts are futile, of course. If she ever comes across a squirrel whose first instinct is not to ascend a tree, she will be fully ready to take advantage of the situation, however I cannot imagine that this is terribly likely, and if it is then the squirrel will probably be visibly diseased. I will then be forced to step in and be the bad guy who denies Gretta her long-awaited shot at a squirrel. I do not relish the idea of getting between her and her prey.

Doing Work

Yesterday I renewed the story of walking the neighbors' dog Gretta, and there is a deep well of stories and thoughts for which that experience is a catalyst. I spoke yesterday of motivating and cajoling her into walking, and that can be a real workout. It's worth noting that I do not exercise in any conventional sense, and so practical activities such as walking to the store or running to catch the bus are essential to my health.

Thank goodness then that I have the opportunity to walk Gretta, because even if she and I were of the same mind about when to go and when to stop, I'd still have that time walking. We are not of the same mind, however. She brings to mind a work acquaintance from summer camp who was none too eager to be outdoors or to exert himself. On a walk along the rim of the Grand Canyon, we would always be running ahead to render the next bench unusable, so as to keep him moving.

Push & Pull

You may recall from last month (although I doubt it) that I have been occasionally walking the neighbors' dog when they are away for too long. I then characterized my role as being the fun uncle who swoops in briefly to spoil his young charges before restoring them to the responsible parents. I also outlined my selfish interest in using the dog, called Gretta, as bait in a lady trap. That was the extent of my thinking at the time, more or less.

There's so much more, though! Rest assured, you will hear it all before I am through. Something that occurs to me today is a condition which once saved my family's old dog Jack from having to go on regular hikes: laziness. Actually, as we obtained no professional diagnosis I can't say there was nothing wrong with him beyond attitude, but the result was the same: he showed little natural enthusiasm for walking the trail after an initial period of novelty, and could not be induced by any method to move easily.

I'm A Dog

I have said to people on any number of occasions that a dog will ultimately eat whatever you give it, provided you wait the dog out. The dog may want the good stuff in a can, but he'll eat the cheap dry stuff if that's all he sees in the bowl for long enough. No dog will starve out of principle, it seems to me. Now, I never have been met with agreement on that. Dog owner or not, people will chuckle at my naivete and set me straight on the nature of a dog. I'm used to that on most subjects.

I am like the dog that I envision in that ultimately I will compromise. In a truly equal scenario, I will eat what I have when I am hungry enough. There is no value in upholding my standards of food, as if I had any to speak of. I start off eating the things I have that I like, and if I don't wind up getting more of that in time, I'll start eating the things that aren't too bad but entail a lot of work, and then I'll eat the terrible stuff. It's just a matter of time.

Rough Justice

A friend and I went over to the grocery store to pick up some things for ourselves, and in that there is nothing remarkable. It might have been something else if we had been buying things for somebody else or for each other, but we were there for very conventional reasons: we were hungry. Well, there would be nothing to write about if not for something that I saw on the way out of the place, which was the dog tied up outside.

As it was an evening in southern California, the weather was most agreeable for a dog to be outside. This was not a case of animal neglect or cruelty, as there was nothing to suggest that the dog was any less happy than if he had been home or romping in the park. Being so near to a lot of food, he might have been even more happy than under normal circumstances. No, he was doing just fine for himself there.

Uncle Dogwalker

The neighbors have a dog, and it's the sweetest pit bull you can imagine. Her name is Gretta, and she is dangerous only in the sense that her enthusiasm for new friends sometimes is more powerful than her ability to control her bulky frame. She's just an adorable thing, and it's a real treat when, occasionally, she needs a walk that can't be provided by her loving owners. The kind of unconditional love that you get from a dog is priceless.

I have an ulterior motive. I've always had the idea that women are drawn to a man with a cute pet, or a less-than cute pet who highlights his sense of compassion. It's the sort of thing that softens an otherwise rough around the edges image. I can always use some softening, and so I stroll out with the dog in hopes that a lady who might not give me much of a glance will suddenly see fit to give me a glance and then some. That may be too much to ask.

A Mood Swing Thing

When I sat down to write and starting casting about for ideas, I was angry. I was just blindly, unreasonably mad. I could try to explain why, but words couldn't adequately capture how senseless and stupid it was. I was upset with myself for getting mad, and knew well how unpleasant anyone would find me to be if anyone was around. I resolved to try and rid myself of this terrible mood, and the sooner I could manage it the better.

My first thought was to listen to Broadway show tunes. Most of them are fairly upbeat in my experience, and even those few which are dark in tone are still far too catchy to feed a wrathful mood. Well, I thought that the songs were working on me until I went into the kitchen and found myself swearing at the ultimately incorrect assumption that we had no clean plates left. Clearly, if I was going to rid myself of this foul mental state, it was going to take more than anything from "Anything Goes" or "Annie".

Easy Ride

As I write this, I struggle with the fear that I have covered this ground before, but one cannot by fear be kept from action. The thing is that a neighbor of mine- a good friend- has this lovable dog. It's a pit bull, but it is one that does not deserve the bad name that the breed has in many quarters. Some would have us all believe that the breed as a whole should not be regarded as mean or violent. I don't know much about that, but this dog is a danger only through its boundless enthusiasm for making friends.

The dog doesn't cope well with being cooped up, and its owners would not have it confined all day. It (she) is given plenty of opportunities to stretch its legs and void herself. Not always are the owners themselves at liberty to take her out, and so she is entrusted to a select circle of outsiders. I am one of these, and I take seriously the responsibility. For anything to happen to her on my watch is just unthinkable.

Dog Gets The Heat

There was this moment out on Hollywood Boulevard that was just about lost in the shuffle, except that I was there. It sure would have been a shame, because it was a tremendous drama for all of its realness. We devalue true greatness in drama for all that we elevate trivial, mediocre drama in our impatience. This was the real deal. A somewhat heavyset (as I hesitate to call her, having heard the term characterized as derogatory) woman was standing amid the hustle and bustle, upbraiding a man holding a leashed dog for ruining their trip.

That's all I saw, but my mind starting working like a perpetual motion machine. May I assume that the object of the trip was tourism, given their location? What reason might there be for the trip being unsatisfactory in her eyes, and how was it that she came to pin it on the man? There are just a lot more questions here than answers. I can suppose and conjecture all day, but I never will come to a truly satisfactory answer unless the principals in the drama read this and fill me in. If so I will pass it on to you.

Dogged And Relentless

I continue to turn to afternoon walks in hopes of better learning the neighborhood and receiving inspiration for writing. Having walked every street in the triangle formed by the three major roads that border my home, I have lately turned to the far side of one of the two which run more or less North and South. On one of the side streets there, I did see something interesting enough. On the gate of one home (which I would not say sings out a very enticing song to thieves), an oddly specific sign warned troublemakers of a "German Shepherd On Duty".

On reading that, it occurred to me that I had seen an animal behind the fence moments before. I went and took a second look. There indeed was a German Shepherd about identical to the one pictured on the sign, except that the latter one watches you intently and alertly, and the actual one there was motionless and apparently sleeping. I stood there and watched it, soon judging that this dog was not nearly so dutiful as I was meant to believe. Understand that I was not any more likely now to rob the place, but figured that it would not be any tougher for the dog's presence.

Paternal Botany

I wrote of pets yesterday in an unflattering light, so let me show another side. A desire that has largely gone unfulfilled since I have moved to Los Angeles is that of having a pet. My whole life I had one pet or another, and it was most satisfying to love them and care for them. There were great annoyances when they would misbehave and there was deep grief when they would expire, but it was a worthwhile thing in my experience. Unfortunately, the apartment building in which I now live does not permit pets. Now that I am fully responsible for my home, I don't know that I would want one anyway. What they do allow are plants, although I cannot have an "excessive" amount.

For some time I contemplated the idea of getting a plant, and seeing that reference to them in my new lease led me to cement the plan. Of course, with the holidays coming I decided to wait a little. The weather was bad and I would be leaving town for a while anyway. I like my roommates and have no good reason to doubt their ability to care for a plant, but there was no upside to getting one at that time and entrusting it to them. Either they would care for it poorly and kill it or care for it well and leave me coming in effectively as an interloper the plant didn't really know and not its true owner. Plants are really rather intuitive, I suspect.

A Pet Peeve

The holiday season is well behind us, but one thing continues to rankle me. There is in such holidays as Christmas deep meaning for me. The reason for the season, as I've heard it put, is the birth of Christ, and we celebrate by following the example of the wise men and giving gifts to those we care about as well as being charitable towards our fellow men. Each holiday on the calendar has its own significance which rivals that of Christmas, and I take them seriously. Here's what bothers me: why do we go to the trouble of extending the holiday to our pets?

Every year, there I am reveling in the Yuletide spirit which I so appreciate. I've been to church and have taken the trouble to properly observe the occasion, so of course it's quite reasonable that I should both give and receive gifts as well as partake in a grand holiday meal with all the proper trappings. I'm eating it and feeling special until a holiday meal comes out for the dogs. They aren't Christian and don't know what the day is all about. They certainly have not given any of us gifts outside of a possible dead bird, which is something they can hardly be counted on to do every year. Yet it is so that they get a turkey dinner from Iams or whoever and receive gifts to boot!

It Stalks These Halls

I've mentioned the place I'm presently living in before and the circumstances under which that came to be, but there's an angle I have only mentioned in passing. Taking up a mere paragraph of that post but looming much larger is what might be described as the fourth roommate in the place, a lean and mostly black cat. When I first came into the apartment, he had no name which anyone could tell me. A trial balloon was floated in the form of the moniker 'Oliver'. The name's literary associations were deliberately chosen. I think the cat was believed to be an even more temporary denizen than I, though that remains to be seen. Each of us has a problematic exit strategy. In the mean time, he is here to roam around day and night, and I am likewise at liberty to watch that happen.

It's a surprisingly diverting exercise, although it's not entirely a pleasant one. The cat has an off-putting reserve of energy and few if any constructive outlets for it. An early morning would not be complete without me feeling inadequate as a result of the respective degrees of pep displayed by it and myself. I cannot honestly say that I have observed him sleeping. It's my believe that any time during which it has been immobile was merely an opportunity seized to 'case' someone or something upon which it had self-serving designs. Sometimes I come upon the cat after entering the apartment during the day or exiting my bedroom in the morning and he is there to watch me. He hasn't bounded out at the sound of my approach or the hinges of the door. He's just there, evidently reaping the benefits of a maddening gift for patience. I don't have that, and I have the benefit of having attended formal educational institutions for twenty years.