We’re not so different, you and I.
Journey 02.
We are woken to thumps that hit the comforter in a steady rhythm. She’s curled up, barricaded between my husband and I. When dawn breaks and light shines through the window, the pup awakes. She cannot help it, the day filled with possibility and adventure has begun. From between us her head emerges and her long, wet tongue meets Brian’s face first. He must have the most glorious morning breath because she licks him the longest. The thumps continue as she continues to groom both him then I until a yawn eventually makes its way towards her wide jaws and like a shark she exposes all of her teeth and lets out a high pitched tone until her yawn is complete. I smile, Brian smiles and Aliz’s tail continues to drum its beautiful cadence. Like us, she chooses to elongate her morning by taking our sweet time to stretch in bed and talk. And when we laugh the beating of her tail speeds up. This is our morning.
After breakfast and morning preparations, I get in the car with a camera and the pup in tow. This is our typical morning routine. A walk in the woods for clarity, fresh air, and exercise. Though, to be honest, the exercise comes as an afterthought. The walk in the woods is the first thing we’re after and if it means the tired muscles from my buttocks gets a bit of a work out then sign me up.
I come here almost every day, with my husband or its just my husband, or just me but we’re here: the pup and us. Somewhere where there are trees and leaves, and we’re walking through them. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day. The ringing sounds of artificial intelligence can’t reach me as the layers of bark block reception and most other kinds of interaction attached to the rectangle that I can still feel in my pocket. For me, this is a reprieve and I’m cognizant of the world around me. Wind blows my hair around my face to tickle where it lands. The air smells so crisp I inhale profoundly again and again so that I can remember the moment, this moment where somehow, miraculously time stands still. I’m out in the woods walking with my dog and it all seems so idyllic. And I’m here because of her.
Our sweet canine companion Aliz, with eyes that match the fall grass when green and yellow meet. Who is smart and patiencnt and funny. Already at 10 months old she exhibits wisdom grander than many adults I know. A lifetime removed from her puppyhood days where cute pudgy legs clumsily navigated new terrain. Now she moves flawlessly. Her beautiful legs stretch out in a sprint to hurl over a fallen tree, quick steps with gentle paws avoiding a thick muck mid path. With her nose to the ground she picks up new scents, each I imagine more intriguing than the last. I wish I could smell those smells. When there is something completely enticing she paws at the earth to remove the topmost layer. Her nose then touches the ground and she sniffs heartily. Without moving, her nose still glued to the dirt she inhales and exhales and in her outward breath she snorts like a piglet as if to further identify this wonderful smell. When she’s done she’ll move on towards the next sight or sound or scent but there is still some soil attached to her nostrils. She doesn’t seem to mind.
My pup brings me back to nature. Her curious gaze turns towards the sky as birds fly overhead. Her lingering stance overlooking the skyline draws my attention back to these same exact things as I turn to watch her, I cannot help but also notice the world she sees. I’ve observed things I would have otherwise been too distracted to examine, my mind filled with thoughts from the day, the past I can never shake off.
We travel on, walking the same path, alongside one another. With her agile four legs and my slow two we continue this way forward. The world has taught me to see the sharp contrast between us. She has fur and I hair. Her posture, paws, and ability to eat raw meat is something I can’t easily replicate. I’ve struggled with these boundaries that very clearly divide me and the pup. The day we got her, on the 19 hour car ride home with many breaks in-between Brian and I choose to rest on the floor beside her bed. While she delightfully snoozed from rambunctious romps between drives, our heads met cushioned by her bed as we guided her from the home she’d always known to welcome her into ours.
Brian and I act as if these distinctions between us and canine don’t exist because for us, they don’t. While she cannot verbalize words as I do, she speaks to me just the same. My needs mirror mine hers in that we both call out for sympathy, attention, cuddling, food, and more. I too lick my plate clean after a good meal. We greet her on all fours to wrestle and play and Aliz returns the favor by pushing up and standing on hind legs to do the same. The bonds that tied us centuries ago where man and canine walked the earth together are somehow momentarily restored. At home, we have chosen to listen to her unspoken words, for they speak volumes. She lets us know when she wants to play or go outside. When we’re out, she is not leashed but wanders the earth freely, driven in ways I will never understand, so why restrain her. We have chosen an unspoken path where our roles are caretakers and companion, here to help provide guidance along the way. We do not to be prison guards insisting her every move be watched or dictated to suit my conveniences.
Why do these differences between person and dog demand she cater to my every beck and call? “Come here, sit now, don’t sniff over there, we’re not playing with that dog today, we have to leave and go home,” these are my choices, not hers.
I find myself asking why the majority of us have chosen this other life with our canines that forget to ask them questions.
Why are her needs and thoughts and wishes put aside so that mine might shine through? I don’t know.
After our walks and evening melts into night, we retire into the same bedroom, climb or jump up into the same bed and the three of us nestle in the comforters together.
There are many differences that might set us apart but I choose to see none of them.
This was written in 2020. Inspired by Ted Keresote’s beautifully written book “Merle’s Door” we sought a different experience with our pup.
What about you? What are the ways in which you and your pup communicate, exist, live?