Individual Entry

People Who Still Have Blogs:

  • Me


August, 2018
July, 2018
December, 2017
September, 2017
August, 2017
May, 2017
March, 2017
December, 2016
November, 2016
August, 2016
July, 2016
April, 2016
January, 2016
December, 2015
November, 2015
October, 2015
June, 2015
May, 2015
April, 2015
February, 2015
January, 2015
December, 2014
September, 2014
August, 2014
July, 2014
June, 2014
May, 2014
April, 2014
March, 2014
February, 2014
January, 2014
December, 2013
November, 2013
October, 2013
September, 2013
August, 2013
July, 2013
June, 2013
May, 2013
November, 2012
October, 2012
September, 2012
August, 2012
July, 2012
June, 2012
March, 2012
February, 2012
January, 2012
December, 2011
November, 2011
September, 2011
August, 2011
July, 2011
June, 2011
May, 2011
April, 2011
March, 2011
February, 2011
January, 2011
December, 2010
November, 2010
October, 2010
September, 2010
August, 2010
June, 2010
May, 2010
March, 2010
February, 2010
January, 2010
November, 2009
October, 2009
September, 2009
August, 2009
July, 2009
June, 2009
May, 2009
April, 2009
March, 2009
February, 2009
January, 2009
December, 2008
November, 2008
October, 2008
September, 2008
August, 2008
July, 2008
June, 2008
May, 2008
April, 2008
March, 2008
February, 2008
January, 2008
December, 2007
November, 2007
October, 2007
September, 2007
August, 2007
July, 2007
June, 2007
May, 2007
April, 2007
March, 2007
February, 2007
January, 2007
November, 2006
October, 2006
September, 2006
August, 2006
July, 2006
June, 2006
May, 2006
April, 2006
March, 2006
February, 2006
January, 2006
November, 2005
October, 2005
September, 2005
August, 2005
July, 2005
June, 2005
March, 2005
January, 2005
December, 2004
November, 2004
August, 2004
July, 2004
June, 2004
May, 2004
April, 2004
March, 2004
February, 2004
January, 2004
December, 2003
November, 2003
October, 2003
September, 2003
August, 2003
July, 2003
May, 2003
April, 2003
March, 2003
February, 2003
January, 2003
December, 2002

Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional
Valid CSS

Dogless 2

Moya was a good dog.

At one point my son of a year and half rolled off the couch all of a sudden, right ontop of where she was laying. Her response to this unprovoked attack, was to walk out of the room.

I'm generally against dogs biting children, but I think in that situation very few dog juries would vote to convict.

We lost Moya yesterday while she was getting a fatty-tumor removed from her side. I'll spare you the specific details, but it is very similar to if you reached out to pull on someone's loose sweater thread, and are horrified to learn that that piece of yarn is not a part of a sweater, but actually goes right into their belly button and you've just continuously unraveled their insides in a manner very similar to the worst "endless handkerchief" magic trick imaginable.

So while I did spare you specific details there, I seem to have provided horrifying similes instead. Sorry about that. I'm not in a good head space.

I have walked Moya twice a day, save for travelling, everyday for a dozen years. During the winter, this has become a less pleasant task, especially as age, and apparently massively invasive cancer, had slowed her roll quite a bit

I generally endured it, but on specifically cold or windy days, I would eventually lose patience with the extended 5 minute sniffing session and insistently tug her back into a procession.

This worked well enough, until about 6 months ago, when I did it, and she pretty much fell over, her haunches at painful looking angles. In that moment she was now an old lady and I was a monster.

So I stopped being able to do anything about her interested snuffling, and her tyranny of investigative smell journalism continued unchecked.

It gave me a lot of time to think about dogs, and how they experience the world. I used to imagine to myself that the way she would lose herself in those smells was the equivalent of a dog MMO game. To just disappear into a rich world with history and details about everything in the neighborhood. Not only what animals had been here, but what their general health was, what they'd eaten recently, what they were having sex with.

It also made me think about how much data about all those smells would disappear, unshared when she was gone. What did she know about my health? Could she smell the problems with herself? Could another dog have told me whether she was in pain or not, and for how long.

It made me wonder about out limited perceptions of the world, and how experiencing it via knowing which trace amount of chemicals were in the air about us would be like...

For us visual animals, death is a finality. We see the dead body, until it goes away and we see no body. We are unnerved by the silence the absence causes.

But if I experienced the world like a dog, would I find comfort in the fact that the entire house likely still smells strongly of her presence. That to another dog it would be like she is just around the corner. Would the slow fading of the scent be easier or harder than the absolutes of vision?

I don't know.

They say a dog's year is equivalent to 7 human years.

This seems like just another way of saying that your life is seven dog lives long.

No comments yet:


Meta Information:

Title: Dogless 2
Date posted: 05 Dec '15 - 13:47
Filed under: General
Word Count: 580 words
Good Karma: 83 (vote)
Bad Karma: 47 (vote)
Next entry:  Glasses by the Sink
Previous entry:  Deriving Happiness