So tonight we were almost home and this lady who jogs in the evening around the neighborhood with her husband riding bike by her side came right over to Asia to give the greyhound some attention and to get some.
That never happens to me. In my entire lifetime, I don't think it's ever happened.
It probably never happens to that guy on the bike either.
But it happens to Asia. Often. Not just with women, but with men, teenagers, children, and even toddlers. Even other dogs seem to like her. I've seen cats stop and stare, like they couldn't get their eyes full of her, mesmerized. The dog has that kind of charisma.
Is there any wonder why I am writing about her? I need to study her and glean from her some charm.
However, I'll never look as good, as lean, as sleek as she does. That isn't going to happen.
The feminine mystique. She has it.
I'm guessing my mother in heaven does too.
Asia was bred to race. She was bred in Colorado and raced at the track in Denver. After her handlers culled her from their racing inventory, she was rescued — culled inventory is killed — and eventually delivered to Utah. By that time, my wife had made application with a local facilitator to adopt a greyhound. The facilitator inspected our home and interviewed us to ascertain our worthiness. Apparently, we passed muster, and Asia — of course, that wasn't her name back then — was placed with us. My wife was immediately enamored and continues to be to this day. The others of us came along. Asia is now an important member of our household.
In her younger years, Asia had more energy than she does now. In the fenced yard out back of our house, she would race a particular track back and forth as fast as she could go. Scary fast. Sometimes I cringed watching her. At times I even worried that she would injure herself, but she didn't. She hasn't, not by doing that, at least.
That particular track of Asia's isn't as distinctive now as it once was. She doesn't use it as regularly or as rigorously now. I think she still does race around somewhat like that, but less crazily, with limited abandon compared with formally. Maybe she's just bounded as to what she can do now. Middle-age verging on old age or something like that. Maybe it hurts her to move now like it does me. Or possibly it's that I don't watch her as closely as I used to. Maybe she's still going breakneck and I'd be scared to death if I saw her.
A friend of mine told me he had had a greyhound as a youth. His greyhound also ran around with abandon and one day his dog reached its racing limit and then ran directly into a tree and killed itself, almost as if it had done it purposefully. I could tell it affected my friend, as course it would me if it happened to Asia.
Life moves on. Obligations one has in youth pass by the wayside as you grow older. Children grow up. Responsibility wanes. You receive pension. You have resources you didn't have earlier and the demands upon your time differ in your later years. Such dynamics give you the opportunity to contemplate what you never had time to consider with any particular mental effort before.
Where is my mother in heaven? Since I believe in a religious system that preaches that I have one — a mother in heaven — I must ask the question: Where is my mother in heaven?
Motion is an element of vision.
I'm sure that the experts in ophthalmology — Is that the field? Ophthalmology? — know all about it.
Maybe I should Wikipedia ophthalmology. Later. If I'm still interested.
Anyway, I noticed the motion-vision phenomena years ago, as a boy riding through Yellowstone with my parents, looking for black bears and grizzlies out the windows of the car. The bears were always easier to spot if they were on the move, lumbering through the woods, running full bore up the hill. I can't tell you how many bears I spotted from far off on that trip to Yellowstone only to realize they weren't bears at all, but rocks, logs, bushes or some combination of various natural flora or geography. Yet, if the bear that I thought I saw was on the move, I almost always got it right. No rocks, logs, bushes or combinations of things ended up on that list.
How does this come up? On the dog walk today, Asia saw something from afar. I did too. In fact, I think I saw it first, long before Asia did. She was dithering with the grass, sniffing or peeing or whatever.
I couldn't tell exactly what it was when I first saw it. It looked like a dog, a smaller one, a middle sized poodle or so, but I wasn't sure. It was oddly colored — pinkish, as I recall — for a dog. But, who knows these days? Crazy people die their dogs all different kinds of colors, I guess.
We walked on. The distant 'dog' or whatever it was didn't move. It stayed stationary, like it was glued to the ground. Within a few steps of my sighting of it, Asia caught sight of it. She didn't abandon her usual exploits, sniffing and dodging here and there, checking things out as she went, but she definitely kept whatever it was in mind while veering and pulling in that direction anytime she thought I might take her an opposite one.
The closer I got, the better I could see it. Pretty soon, I knew what it was. It was a child's toy on wheels that looked like a dog or some creature like a dog. As soon as I knew what it was I quit focusing on yet and began watching Asia closer.
The closer Asia got to the toy, the more wary of it she became. She didn't want to approach it too fast, I guess. She wasn't anxious to hurry up to it in case it was ready to slash into her eyes with its claws, lift its tail and spray, or something gruesome. To Asia, it was a living thing, frozen from motion, waiting to attack, or to flee, but to flee only if it was absolutely necessary. Asia veered away from it, but when she saw we were so close and it was not doing anything, not fleeing, not attacking, decided to walk over and sniff it, which she did.
And then she was off.
As a man, a straight man, what have I missed through the years relative to my privilege as a man over against what women have? In particular, within my culture and religion, how do those questions play out?
Speaking of walking Asia, how do you feel about walking around the neighborhood with a plastic bag full of dog doo doo? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you could just start out with the bag full, filled by somebody else and handed to you along with the leash and the dog. But seriously, what if you have to be the one gathering the droppings?
I don't imagine too many people would find it appealing or want to do it themselves.
In fact, now that I think of it, I think I'll have to start noticing better what the people out there walking their dogs are doing about that responsibility, whether they are picking up after their mutts or not. Obviously, the dogs aren't doing it. Well, the dogs are doing it, but they're not doing what we humans consider appropriate. It's not within their values.
I know some people who do pick up after their dogs. Chris and Tori always do so. But truthfully, I'm not sure what others do or don't do. I haven't watched closely enough to know. Should I? I'm pretty sure Robert doesn't; after all, he's got two medium-sized dogs he takes at once, often letting them go loose and then he gathers them in if he sees somebody coming who might distract his dogs. So logistically it probably would be very very difficult for him to do. Nonetheless, I still think he should.
I admit that bending over and using a plastic bag to gather the canine's deposit is quite disgusting but not beyond anyone's ability to do. Well, there are exceptions, I guess, people who are handicapped and can't bend over and pick it up. But, if my wife could do it, and did do it routinely when she walked Moochie a.k.a. Asia, there is no reason on earth why almost anyone else who can walk a dog couldn't do it. It's a matter of responsibility and sacrifice.
Enough of that.
Well, not quite. Stopping and gathering what is unseemly and distasteful must be some kind of a metaphor for what we have to do in life. Should there be a distinction made between individuals who take that degree of responsibility and those who do not? Should we individually ever make that kind of judgments about others? I definitely think we should judge ourselves in that regard and learn to do and commit to doing the responsible thing. As to judging others, I think, if it is in the collective interests of a community to do so, it would be appropriate to make an ordinance requiring the same. But long before we get to that point, people should take it upon themselves to do what is right. If enough people took it upon themselves to do what was right, ordinances and laws possibly would not be necessary.
But they don't. It is clearly the law to keep your dog controlled, in your yard fenced, or on a leash that provides adequate control. There are plenty of people around the neighborhood who don't.
How has this dynamic changed over time?
How does the dynamic of how women are treated in our society changed over time?
We have our differences, Asia and I.
But mostly we are on the same page. She's a little more casual and easy-going than I am. At least, that's the perception I have of other people's opinions of her and me. One thing, I think Asia is a Democrat. If she could talk, I'm pretty sure she'd say she was. If they'd let her vote, I'm pretty sure that's the platform she'd support. Candidates would benefit from her endorsement. She's attractive and sweet. She's kind except to cats and excitable dogs. I think she thinks they are Republicans.
As to differences between us, she often wants to go an alternative direction than I do. Usually, this involves preferences as to what to avoid or what to enjoy. I don't want to admit that she has higher standards than I. That's not the issue…or is it? Sometimes it has to do with just wanting to extend the walk, get some more exercise. It's usually her, not me, that wants to go on further, fanatic that she is. She has more stamina, more enthusiasm for walking or trotting, and more curiosity than I do.
The differences as to the direction we go don't usually involve politics. Asia wants to go further away from home; I want to stick close and return and go have a chocolate chip cookie. Asia wants to avoid a mean, barking dog or raucous equipment, so she says let's go this way; I want to check out the progress of carpenters working on a project at the neighborhood house or the new car so and so bought. Asia wants to check out the newest bitch; I don't think it's appropriate for a married man to do that.
So what happens if we have a difference of opinion? First of all, she lets me know. After all, I have a leash in my hand, and she knows how to use it. Sometimes all she has to do is tug and I relent. I try to be kind. Other times, I don't want to go the way she does; it's a matter of principle. It becomes a standoff. She tugs and pulls and sometimes whines, and I stand there, sometimes tugging back, sometimes pulling hard, and, frankly, sometimes whining myself. She usually gets her way, although she'd probably tell a different story.
She's a female, and I'm for feminine rights. I need to do better to support her. The patriarchy has too much power.
I like to watch Asia as we go, but there's only so much about her on walks after all this time that still holds my attention.
Quite frankly, I've mostly passed the point of needing to stare at her or at what she does while we go on our route. I can more or less zone out or concentrate on something else. I more or less let her choose the pace, with some restrictions. Obviously, if she wanted to run or sprint, that wouldn't work. I prevent that from happening. I have the leash and the weight advantage. We usually stroll, and I always stop for her to explore, unless there's another dog or a kitty. Anymore, if she wants to stop and visit with a human being, especially with children, if they're willing, I'll stop and try and comply with her desire and theirs.
But I usually have an earphone stuck in at least one of my ears, usually my right one, for what I want to concentrate on, given the circumstances of Asia exploring the smells, the bushes, the fire hydrants, the lamp posts, the flowers etc.
Most of the time, especially mornings, the earphone is hooked to a portable radio, a little Sony I've had for years. I purchased it originally because it used to play the audio from the local television stations when they were still analog. Those days are gone, however; that feature is its obsolete. More and more, I feel outmoded myself. But the device still plays the local radio stations, both AM and FM, and my favorite is NPR. The local NPR station is KUER, located at 90.1 FM. It's broadcast, as I understand it, from the University of Utah.
By the time I get going, Diane Rehm is usually on. Her program, of course, varies, sometimes with reviews of books, or guests who have written books on particular topics or who are featured in some magazine or newspaper. Experts in some field or another. Politics. Current events. Whatever. Diane is about as balanced as anyone I've ever heard on radio or seen on television. Often, she has someone fill in for her. She has problems with her voice. Anyway, KUER broadcasts two hours of her program. The next program in the morning is Radiowest, whose host is usually Doug Fabrizio.
All the while I'm listening, Asia has her routine. You can probably somewhat imagine it, although I'm not sure you can imagine how casual she is unless you know something about greyhounds. She isn't at all flighty, like some dogs are. In fact, she is pretty cool and collected. She does some sniffing but probably less than most dogs do. After all, she's not like a bloodhound. She is in the class of dogs known as sight hounds, so she's a looker, not a sniffer.
Today was Labor Day.
Asia and I labored on around the neighborhood again as usual.
Well, I guess it's more a labor for me than I think it is for Asia. After all, I don't go begging or reminding her we need to get going, but she does me.
Oh, she's nice enough about it, discreet and all. She doesn't do much yapping or jumping up on me or anything radical at all. In fact, she doesn't ever do any of that, except sometimes slightly when the feat is accomplished.
Her coaxing me to the deed is much more subtle. She'll come in if I'm sitting at the computer and nudge my hand with her snout. I'll scratch her head and pat her body. After I quit, she'll crouch down and wait. If nothing happens, that is, I don't start putting on my tennis shoes or start searching for the radio or iPod, after ten or fifteen minutes she'll get up and go away for a few minutes. Pout Pretty soon, though, she'll be back again to repeat her procedure. If she hears me get up or move about, she'll be there at my side immediately, checking out whether I'm putting on my shoes and getting my hat on or not.
Asia might be a dog, a sight hound, but she isn't stupid.
Nothing particularly out of the ordinary happened on today's walk except the fact that more people were out strolling with their dogs today. When a person with a dog approaches or overtakes us, I gather Asia's leash so that if she gets growly at the approaching dog, I can lift her off her feet and disorient her somewhat. That helps. It seems to be working. She's getting better, and on this Labor Day she wasn't growly to any of the approaching doggies. Or me.
One feminist I read today asked some interesting questions. She asked could she be LDS and think that women should be ordained. Could she be a Mormon and be disgusted that Joseph Smith pressured young girls and married women to marry him to receive their exaltations? Could she be LDS and actively embrace LGBT sisters and brothers? Could she be Mormon and blatantly disagree with decisions made by male leaders? Could she be LDS if she thought the LDS God didn't consider her equal, although she might be important?
These are some of the questions I might want to address in my upcoming work.
