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Sparkle (1)
My dog is a beast of a thing. I have always agreed with the likes of Aristotle who distinguish human beings from animals on our capacity to think (I know–what a human-centric hegemonic position.) My last dog after all, although very sweet and beautiful, was not playing with a full deck. He always thought he was either larger or smaller than he actually was. For instance, at 80 pounds he thought he was the perfect size to sit on my lap, but he imagined himself so large that a door had to be fully open before he thought he’d be able to get through. He hated to have a bath, but if I managed to get him in the tub and closed the shower curtain, he thought he was trapped and would sit down and suffer through. Once while running in the woods, we saw a moose, he was petrified. He had the very same experience when a baby carrot once fell on the floor in front of him. Certainly differently intelligenced, if not irrational.
My new dog is somewhat different. In some respects he’s absolutely insane. Particularly, if there’s a city bus in the vicinity. School buses, alternatively, are not problematic at all. Bicycles are also a problem. Unless I’m rising it. He’s big enough that he could demolish anything he out his teeth to, but he prefers to cuddle the bananas rather than try to bite through the peel. Although if I peel it, he’s more than happy to eat it.
But he can also be very smart. He’s a good beggar. He has massive head, which, when he wants attention or treats, he will rest with its full weight on you, doleful eyes wide, ears alternatingly cocked. Really too cute to resist. But even stranger and kind of creepy, he has started to try out particularly human things. For instance, he seems to have recognized that we don’t bark. So he’s working on other forms of communication. ”Allllwwwrooooo,” he greets us. That’s the only one he’s really perfected. But then there is the hugging. Literally. At first when he was happy to see you he jumped. That in itself was alarming enough. He’s 120 pounds of excitement. Now, in addition, he clasps his front legs/paws around his beloved, until gravity pulls him and his extended claws down your back. To be hugged is to be marked. With your own blood. Evolution is sometimes a frightening thing.
