Chauncy, a Dog and My Friend
I took Chauncy for a walk this afternoon. We went down to the L.A. River and walked along its upper bank. He peed, I pondered, he shit, I scooped it up in a plastic bag. Friends do things like that for one another, and for the river as well.
I must be working out some strange karma, because many people came up to me on the river with odd requests and offers pertaining to Chauncy. One fellow wanted me to sell "the dog" for medical experiments. I declined. Another suggested, with some conditioning work, Chauncy might be put to use in a dog fighting ring--a little torture here, a little baiting there, and he just might prove to be a gamer. Chauncy growled. I shook my head no. The man moved along.
A third individual rushed up and asked me about my "property" and I said we were thinking of renting out our house while we try Oregon out for a year. This person shook her head and said, "No, I was referring to the dog...you know, your property." "Oh, you mean like a thing?" "Exactly," she responded. Chauncy strolled off toward the ivy. I squinted my eyes and looked into the soul of the person I was talking to (a neat trick I learned from an Amway salesman) and saw that she was serious. "Good day to you," I said, and went off to join Chauncy. Not that the person's company wasn't perfectly delightful, I just preferred the company of the dog.
After that, a rising tide of humanity poured towards Chauncy and me, strangers calling out thick and fast, shouting above the rushing water of the river--the Lord gave us dominion over the animals...how about kicking your dog for us, and then electrocuting him? Followed by His fur would make a buck or two on the Chinese market, but it might cost a bit to ship him there...what say we skin him alive here and save a few bucks? Next came He's just a dog, mister. Why do you have to get all sensitive over a few suggestions... The river water rose all the way up the side of the banks, and then just as suddenly everyone was gone.
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What I thought had happened had not. I hadn't been on the river at all. I woke up on the couch in our (my wife's and mine) living room, an afternoon nap having morphed into a disturbing dream of people who had all sorts of ideas of how I should treat and view one of the best parts of my life. Chauncy lay next to me on the floor, opened one eye and wagged his tail at me as I looked desperately back at him.
The world is a varied and oftimes dangerous place, for humans and animals and everything inbetween. All I know is I have this friend, this companion, this dog I discovered on the river four years ago--my wife named him Chauncy--who slogs about with me at the beach, walks with me in the neighborhood, travels to far away places with us and sticks his nose out an open window and smells the world passing by, a fellow who brings a smile to almost everyone who sees him and touches him.
His value is not in opposition to another's suffering, his existence not a political or mathematical equation. To me, cordoning off love and respect in one location has never increased them in another. What his "meaning" is is quite beyond what I project onto him, so I don't even go there. I just love being alive in the world with him, more than I would without--someday, if he perishes before me, I will feel a deep and abiding loss, and no doubt will grieve and cry at his passing, even though some would say "he was just a dog." To me he's another player in the mystery of it all, and I am grateful beyond all measure that I am part of his life.
File this one under "Love" if you like.
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wow, mjs
what a frightening dream, and what a beautiful thing to say on behalf of Chauncy. May you both live long and prosper.
Chauncey looks very much
Chauncey looks very much like my dog Mick but with a little bit longer hair.
Animals are wonderful beings. The more you put into them and open up to them, the more you'll get out.
Our doggy is a wonderful life companion. He is a part of the family.
I feel sad for people who see dogs as commodities or objects.
Chauncy
Thank you MJS and Chauncy. You obviously "get it", I only wish everyone did. Animals are God's GIFT to us, to be loved and treasured and loved some more. God Bless You Both !
When I'm out with Budreaux, people come up to me ALL the time
Of course, he's a stunning example of the breed.
but generally they don't want to admire him, they want to kill him.
Not directly, of course. They wanna use him for training.
There's a LOT of dog-fighting in New Mexico.
Shall I Compare Thee, MJS, to Henry Beston....?
Why, prithee, I think I shall.
To say that this wonderfully funny, wise, and disturbing piece reminds me of this famous passage from Beston's book, "The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod," is to bestow on it praise than which there can be none better.
The words are tres famous...but always bear repeating. This imaginary day with Chauncey deserves to become a classic, too.
Here's Beston:
Let me add only this; it goes without saying, which is probably why you didn't, and I probably shouldn't, but I feel a personal need to say it; whatever the differences among us that have presented themselves in our discussions around Michael Vick, I know that no one who blogs at Corrente would ever be one of those people to approach you in that dream, in the presence of an actual animal, to express any of what your imaginary karmic questioners had to say.
I hope it is also clear that within Beston's formulation is contained a lot of what Zenophon has been critiquing about human attitudes toward their pet animals.
The Coptic Gnostic Fetchstick Gospel Of St. Barksalot
The above piece was meant as a fond declaration, not a defense against another's words. The main theme that I keep coming back to has to do with not proscribing the borders of our compassion, because as soon as we do we lose the wholeness of our compassion. To me, cordoning off love and respect in one location has never increased them in another. This is vital to what I am trying to communicate.
In the Gnostic (also referred to as Coptic) Gospel of St. Thomas are the words (translated, doncha' know) "The Kingdom of the Father is spread on the face of the earth and men do not see it."* The Council of Bishops in Nicea kicked that particular gospel to the curb with all due haste--pity. I am not a monotheist, but I do believe we are in the Kingdom/Godhead/Universe right now, every second, every day--to not understand this--be you a strict rationalist or reifying fabulist--is to be forever on the outside of something that has no outside, a Tantalus forever trying to drink receding water. We have been told by serious men in serious garments on serious Sundays that the water is receding, but maybe we are the ones who are pulling back, refusing to drink the truth of our situation--water equals the unconscious in a number of psychological disciplines--what lurks beneath the silent glass of seas everlasting? What's to strive for if we have already arrived? My answer: we're "there" but we don't know it. Chauncy is there and doesn't know it the way I might imagine it can be known. He simply lives it.
Yeah, I have a little bit of the preacher in me, and I learn more when I listen than when I speak, but I will always feel this: Be good to those who are at your mercy. Jung said that an increase in consciousness is attended by an increase in moral weariness (thus sad and frustrated are the followers of fact, and mad and bloodied are the followers of corruptible fancy). I ask Chauncy about this and he simply wags his tail. Jung and Chauncy, together again.
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I go blah-blah-blah a lot, but I mean what I say and write. In every large and small thing is the ineffable but men do not see it.
*(Note: if Jesus existed he existed as a male Jew, and it would be a normal part of his vocabulary to speak of the "Father" when referencing what to me is ineffable--hate to get bogged down in concepts and abstractions, even though they often inform from beneath.)
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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
William Blake
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I just love being alive in
I just love being alive in the world with him, more than I would without—someday, if he perishes before me, I will feel a deep and abiding loss, and no doubt will grieve and cry at his passing, even though some would say “he was just a dog.” To me he’s another player in the mystery of it all, and I am grateful beyond all measure that I am part of his life.
'Nuf said and so nicely.
Chauncy is a cool name for a dog.
Does he like to watch?
Chauncy sees all...
and betrays nothing, though a wag of his tail speaks volumes.
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