Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Sammy, the Beagle: Stories 3-4

Sammy was the beagle we adopted from the veterinarian who had a kind of informal “beagle rescue” at her pet hospital. She had agreed to take the dog when its owners said he snarled and barked at their newborn baby. The goal was to adopt it to a family willing and able to take on a young beagle who did not enjoy the company of toddlers who pulled its ears and tail.

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My son, who was 10 or 11 at the time, saw the dog and instantly bonded.

Little did I know that his bond was forged of fragile straw, but the bond the beagle would establish with me was superglue.

Sammy Story 4

Life is an adventure. It’s a dog’s life. What is the difference? Does it matter? It matters if you’re the dog, I suppose.

Sammy, the beagle.

Susan, the human.

If you’re a believer in the Great Chain of Being, you’d assume that you, the human, would be on the top of the food pyramid. You’d also assume that Sammy, the dog would be somewhere in the middle rungs of the ladder. On top? The lion. On the bottom? The snake.

Life is not so black and white, nor is it so hierarchical.

Sammy should be five or six rungs (at least!) higher than I. He should be given bonuses for rain, storms, miseries, etc. for his time in the mud.

Intrusive memories are less than pleasant. What does one do to block them out?

It is fairly easy to see how one could seek altered states of consciousness in order to avoid them.

Do dogs have memories?
Do dogs have intrusive thoughts?

It is a good question. So – what do I do? I run. I run, run, and run.

Whether or not this is healthy is not something. I really want to enter my mind.

The living nightmare. It is everywhere.