I’ve moved on from domestic dogs. I’ve been searching for a topic for this blog for some time now, because I’m utterly disillusioned with the world of domestic dogs. I entered into that world in pursuit of the ghosts of dogs long past. I let them live a while here, but I never found them in their true essence again.
I will always love dogs, and at some point, I may write about them again.
But the world of domestic dogs is complex. It is firmly tied to the world of people, and people are complex. Dog people allow themselves to project their egos through the dogs to the point where it becomes really hard to have frank and honest discussions about anything.
So I’ve turned to the dogs that have not created a niche for themselves by attaching themselves to our culture. Some, like coyotes and red foxes, readily scavenge from the excesses of our civilization, but they are not part of human kind. Different cultures may have worshiped the wild dogs, as we do in our own sort of New Agey, ecological worldview.
But they remain distinct from us.
They get to roam without leashes or collars. They don’t follow commands or guard anything but their own territories. They hunt to feed themselves.
And they usually avoid direct observation by our kind.
They are dogs without licenses, except “license’ to be themselves, living out the lives for which eons of evolution have molded them. They choose their own mates. They roll in the stinkiest dung. The only masters they know are forces of nature.
And those masters can be incredibly cruel.
They die of starvation, of distemper or rabies, of mange, and of jaws of other predators, including the jaws of their own kind.
And they continue to be.
Dogs without masters are an affront to all that is holy.
And in their existence is true subversion.
So at this stage, I side with the rebel and the renegades and not the docile sagacity of the domestics.
They may yet return, but right now, I’m beguiled by the brush wolf in the gray March woods.
And it is upon his trail that I shall follow now.