It’s calming to see a content animal, to feed off of their joy. If I’m not scratching a dog’s belly, cradling the cat or rubbing the ears of a rabbit, it’s comforting to see the fulfillment others get out of doing the same.
During the past week I spotted a German Shepherd walking proudly. It had a bounce in its step. The muscles of the legs were tightening and relaxing; the dog wasn’t even concerned about where it was stepping. Even if it could see the ground right below it, it probably would have kept its eyes focused ahead.
The shepherd probably couldn’t see the ground; it was carrying an over-sized Frisbee. The diameter of the toy was almost concerning. With consideration to its depth — it could have been used as an impromptu water bowl.
The dog gripped the ‘bee tightly with its jaws. It
walked strutted proudly.
The pride didn’t go to the dog’s head, however. The animal wasn’t straying from its owner; instead of wavering, it kept a straight line; and the slack of the leash was enough — it never dragged on the ground, nor did it ever go taught.
A daydreaming mind of a person or that of the dog itself could have visioned the animal atop a hill and overlooking a valley; the sun’s rays pour down and light up the landscape, the Frisbee in-mouth. That’s how happy the German Shepherd was. It was obvious.
The glimpse-of-hope, aspiring or daydreaming guy and a romance novel enthusiast gal would create some fantastical scene involving a transformation into a centaur. The German Shepherd, however, only envisions itself.
Maybe a butterfly would softly land upon the opposite lip of the ‘bee — for the sake of gratuitous embellishment.
There would not be no attempt to take the disc away from the mutt. You can bet your balls that wouldn’t happen. Maybe the dog would be more lenient with a woman, whose intuition would tell her to approach or stay away from the dog.
Men: We want to play with the dog. We want to throw that Frisbee whether the dog wants us to or not. Men, we just want to experience the challenge of taking that toy away from the dog and succeeding. (Whether this is a metaphor or not — your decision.)
The light eventually turned green, and I had to drive off. The dog’s being proud over something so simple was elating. There was happiness for the quadruped.
The German Shepherd knows the Frisbee, it knows its owner. The dog knows it will get food and a comfy place to sleep. After all it was entrusted to keep watch over an apparent favorite toy.
(And) It doesn’t realize or have to worry about the shit the rest of the world is knee-deep in.
Cover photo: Odin. Personally taken in March 2012.