Of Cats and Dogs
November 17, 2008
I am not a dog person. Not really. Although, we had a boy Lab named Beau -- my ex was from Texas -- and then we had a girl Lab named Java.
I'm really a cat person. I say this because dog people and cat people view life through a different lens. And, I picked up the book WOOF! WRITERS ON DOGS, edited by Lee Montgomery. With literary writing about dogs, there are several nuanced threads in each story, instead of the one theme you get in most dog books.
There's the one by Abigail Thomas who gave up her queen sized bed for a king, when she acquired three dogs and, by the way, thirty extra pounds. Takes a lot of maneuvering! Rick Bass tells a poignant tale about his sick dog, Point. The heart-rending story by Mary Otis about Odin, King of Hearts. Her childhood dog is killed, her parents call to tell her, and then say the cop who shot the dog is dead, too, of a sexual hanging accident. Otis dreams of dead dogs and dead cops, and before long, falls in love with Odin, the dog from next door. Or, rather, Odin falls in love with her. The stories are strong, not always likable, but provocative and well-written.
The thing about dogs -- and cats -- is that they teach you, especially when you're not looking. Java used to follow me everywhere around the house, and just at the instant when I was about to turn, she would plop her body down right at my feet. I learned to keep my abs ready to contract, to pop the moving leg higher than I might expect. I learned to do pivots and turns and leaps, just so I wouldn't step on her. At first it annoyed me, and then, when Java got sicker and sicker, I began to miss her, knowing she would be gone soon. So when I would turn around, it would make me laugh to high-step over her.
Outside, when I would take her for her very slow walks, Jasmine, our cat, would show up out from under some bush and walk with us, dancing across the sidewalk, under trees, and greet us a few paces down the sidewalk, only to walk with us again. Neighbors would stop their cars, and say,"Is that your cat? Is it going for a walk with you?" And they would laugh. When we got Jet, another black cat, he would try to come along sometimes, although he never really got the hang of it.
And when Java was gone, it felt empty to walk the length of the kitchen or down the hall -- there was no one to fall under my feet.
But Jet -- who is now thirteen pounds of sturdy black fur -- has decided that he owns this place on my glass desk -- the place behind the monitor, just to the side of the radio console that I use to do interviews over the phone into my computer.
But he stretches out, and he lazily lets his paw fall gently on the mouse. "No, Jet, that's my mouse!" I keep saying.
At first it was annoying, and then I remembered Java's lesson -- how wonderful it became to dance around her big black Lab body. And, now here's Jet, teaching me the same lesson -- or testing me to see if I've learned that lesson. I let Jet stretch out into my space, and embrace this animal's love, even if it crowds me a little. With his strong green eyes, Jet tells me he owns me. I suppose he does.
I am not a dog person. Not really. Although, we had a boy Lab named Beau -- my ex was from Texas -- and then we had a girl Lab named Java.
I'm really a cat person. I say this because dog people and cat people view life through a different lens. And, I picked up the book WOOF! WRITERS ON DOGS, edited by Lee Montgomery. With literary writing about dogs, there are several nuanced threads in each story, instead of the one theme you get in most dog books.
There's the one by Abigail Thomas who gave up her queen sized bed for a king, when she acquired three dogs and, by the way, thirty extra pounds. Takes a lot of maneuvering! Rick Bass tells a poignant tale about his sick dog, Point. The heart-rending story by Mary Otis about Odin, King of Hearts. Her childhood dog is killed, her parents call to tell her, and then say the cop who shot the dog is dead, too, of a sexual hanging accident. Otis dreams of dead dogs and dead cops, and before long, falls in love with Odin, the dog from next door. Or, rather, Odin falls in love with her. The stories are strong, not always likable, but provocative and well-written.
The thing about dogs -- and cats -- is that they teach you, especially when you're not looking. Java used to follow me everywhere around the house, and just at the instant when I was about to turn, she would plop her body down right at my feet. I learned to keep my abs ready to contract, to pop the moving leg higher than I might expect. I learned to do pivots and turns and leaps, just so I wouldn't step on her. At first it annoyed me, and then, when Java got sicker and sicker, I began to miss her, knowing she would be gone soon. So when I would turn around, it would make me laugh to high-step over her.
Outside, when I would take her for her very slow walks, Jasmine, our cat, would show up out from under some bush and walk with us, dancing across the sidewalk, under trees, and greet us a few paces down the sidewalk, only to walk with us again. Neighbors would stop their cars, and say,"Is that your cat? Is it going for a walk with you?" And they would laugh. When we got Jet, another black cat, he would try to come along sometimes, although he never really got the hang of it.
And when Java was gone, it felt empty to walk the length of the kitchen or down the hall -- there was no one to fall under my feet.
But Jet -- who is now thirteen pounds of sturdy black fur -- has decided that he owns this place on my glass desk -- the place behind the monitor, just to the side of the radio console that I use to do interviews over the phone into my computer.
But he stretches out, and he lazily lets his paw fall gently on the mouse. "No, Jet, that's my mouse!" I keep saying.
At first it was annoying, and then I remembered Java's lesson -- how wonderful it became to dance around her big black Lab body. And, now here's Jet, teaching me the same lesson -- or testing me to see if I've learned that lesson. I let Jet stretch out into my space, and embrace this animal's love, even if it crowds me a little. With his strong green eyes, Jet tells me he owns me. I suppose he does.
Labels: Abigail Thomas, book review, cats, dogs, Jasmine, Java, Jet, learning., Lee Montgomery, Mary Otis, Rick Bass, WOOF WRITERS ON DOGS
posted by Diana Page Jordan @ 12:20 AM
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