For Extremely Intelligent Children at Any Age
“Everything is poetic that confesses.” – Jorge Luis Borges
“Delia, oh Delia / I can’t believe / you wanted all them
rounders / never had time for me. / All the friends
I ever had / are gone.” – Dylan, “Delia,” World Gone Wrong
“Let us go then, you and I…” – T.S. Eliot
An old Zen saying rightly opines, “Do not seek comfort from others. Light the lantern within yourself.”
I wish to add another saying onto this as a crucial addition for modern humans, in modern times, so many of whom are dealing with loneliness, which the U.S. Surgeon General called a mental (and therefore physical) health epidemic in 2019 (even before the pandemic): “Do not seek comfort in competing with, or comparing yourself to, others. Nourish the light within yourself – alone.”
***
This is about seven dogs.
It is about seven dogs because when we are with someone like a dog, we can be both alone, and not alone, simultaneously. This is the crucial thing than can help us all live up to the two Zen sayings above, while combating modern loneliness at the same time, and turning it to our own ends – for good, for now, and for the people who will need this in the future.
Simply “being alone” is too much for the human species. One must find a way to be alone without being alone, to make the necessary aloneness last longer and be stronger too. (The aloneness need not be continuous, either; it only needs to occur somehow regularly in large, sometimes vast, swaths of time.) (We can also be alone with another or others, which is another story and can be either good or bad, or most often, perhaps, a mixture of both.)
Even the Desert Fathers entertained visitors inside their mountain caves, sometimes (which must have been wild). For many among us, this emotional rescue operation, so to speak, will be of, for, from, and by dogs.
For others among us, this will be cats; or plants; or birds (Bird Man of Alcatraz); or a tiny cabin by the railroad tracks (Henry David Thoreau); or mountain climbing; or a motorcycle; or the violin, or the cello, etc. etc.. If you often tell yourself repeatedly that you don’t like dogs, this essay is still for you.
Dogs are humans’ closest companions in general, BY FAR: the very first domesticated animal (thousands of years ahead of everyone else), the one and only creature that deliberately, decisively leapt across the species divide on its own in order to stand, firmly and loyally, and happily wagging its tail, by humankind’s side, and has been there ever since, and tells us all the time that it isn’t going anywhere, no matter how much computers and robots (human, and mechanical, robots) take over everything else.
This is about dogs, and also, it isn’t about dogs at all. (Everyone needs to find their own thing, which is also part of the fun.) It’s about “Let us go then, you and I…”
***
The seven dogs that this is about are the seven dogs I’ve lived with, all or part time, in the past twenty years. Then, in a kind of mental-soul time machine, I will leap backward, and forward, simultaneously, in time and, suddenly, talk for one minute about the first dog I ever lived with, starting when I was ten years old (I’m 58 now).
Four of these beautiful animals are still among the living, so to speak, daily blessings beyond compare (although one of them has moved far away with my brother, he’s still there). The other three of these creatures still live too – inside my dreams. They visit me, periodically, while I am sleeping.
Sometimes when they do this, they even talk, that is, say human words, unlike what they were able to manage when they were here (although sometimes they tried) in the mortal flesh, which equates to pixie dust for all of us. I have zero doubt that I will see these animals again. They are among my confiscated gods, my lessons. Some day, I don’t know how or when, they will be returned to me.
***
These are the names of the dogs, all of them extremely handsome mixed-blood rescue animals straight off the streets (or the alleyways in rough neighborhoods) in various ways, from Texas to Chicago.
Cowboy Brown Barrigar.
Vincent Van Girl.
Ollie or Oliver Twist.
Pina or Pine Cone.
Bandit Barrigar.
Colonel or The Colonel.
Boo or Bucephalus.
Two brief anecdotes will serve to say what I mean.
***
Boo sticks his big head half-way out of the partly open car window and barks out a friendly “Woof!” (or “Wolf!”) hello greeting at the little girl standing with her father in the parking lot as I approach my car on foot from behind. The little girl, maybe three years old, is startled in a happy way and she looks up at Boo and shouts out, “Hi!” at him in response. As I approach the car, she looks at me, we make eye contact and I say in answer to her, “Hi!” just like she said to Boo. Her father standing beside her then looks into the car and sees who Boo is, an extremely handsome mixed blood Siberian Husky with long, fluffy, soft, sweet-smelling, wolf-like, pure black and white fur; the father says (with a kind of awe), “Aw, he’s a Husky! He’s beautiful!” I am white, the father and daughter are brown, Boo is a friendly wolf-like creature, the world around all of us is a world gone wrong as the billionaires, the robots (human and machine) and the computers take over all of it while it burns, global warming, hunger and thirst of all kinds, crime, toil, disconnection, desperation, unemployment, nuclear threats and endless wars unstoppable, and those are just a few of the problems.
And yet, a little circle of new friendship has been created in the cheap grocery store parking lot, all of us, dog, little girl, father, and me, now smiling both inside and outside at each other if only for a few moments. None of us will ever see each other again in this life, most likely, but perhaps all of us will remember this moment, or this kind of moment, on our deathbeds.
Boo is simply fabulous, fantastic and masterful at creating moments like these with and for the humans he comes in contact with. He does it all the time, without even trying.
(Other folks seem to be terrified of, or to hate Boo, simply because of who he is, but that’s another story, and this is about the good side of life.)
***
My brother and I were sitting on the porch in our Chicago neighborhood that would soon become gentrified and too expensive and fine for the likes of us, the artistic riffraff who some people think are just criminals, but hadn’t yet.
It was the first day of summer, or maybe the first spring day that felt like summer. Suddenly we saw a small dog tearing down the sidewalk, half Dachshund and half beagle in appearance, running and sprinting as if to make his poor heart burst.
When the dog got near the porch we sat on (chain-smoking weed in the spirit of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer while also listening to them on our phones and drinking endless cups of triple-strength black coffee), he took a sharp right turn, dashed up the steps as if literally flying and leapt straight into my brother’s arms.
The poor animal was shaking and wearing a shock collar which buzzed him every time he barked or tried to bark. We immediately removed this grotesque mockery of human dog control.
He had no other collar on, no dog tags, no name, no identifying information. No one came after him.
He spent the rest of the afternoon hiding under my chair in between being brought out and coddled, petted, comforted, given treats, and talked to.
Slowly and steadily bringing this sudden gift pup back to what he already should have been in the first place anyway (a process that would continue for a long time) somehow made not just him, but us, feel a whole lot better. The whole thing was so Dickensian on every level in a good way, we named him Oliver Twist.
***
Mitzi, a Miniature Schnauzer, was the first dog I ever had. She lived a good fifteen years, and somehow passed on just as I was about to move from Illinois to the far wilds and dusty plains of Kansas. I like places that are in the middle of nothing.
Now I’m standing at the bottom of a long, long hill. The grass is green, but this is a green color I’ve never seen before, because it’s so glowing, almost neon in appearance, but a natural neon, not manmade. The sky is so blue, so utterly blue, that it makes me stare it down while looking up and wondering how it could ever have gotten so utterly, so beautifully blue. For a second, I wonder if I’m on the best acid or mushrooms I’ve ever had.
Far off, on the opposite edge of the hill where it slopes down toward a peaceful river that I know is there even though I can’t see it from here, there stands a single tree. A single tree, with a long trunk both straight and crooked, and two arms sticking out from its sides that are far bigger than any other of its branches. At the top of the tree, it looks like flowing green hair and a long beard surrounding some kind of eyes.
Suddenly I feel, I know, I intuit, I imagine, I believe, that something is coming over the hill in my direction. Not something, someone.
Mitzi is the first to arrive at the top of the hill and she stands there on the top of the hill staring down at me. It’s been a long time, a long, long time, but this time, both of us know, there will be no more parting.
The honest tears of joy begin to flow as she heads down the hill toward my side, leading the charge at the head of the pack with seven other dogs appearing, and now running toward me, bounding, dancing for joy, by her side.
***
James Joyce, the outcast, wrote, in “The Day of the Rabblement,” “No man…can be a lover of the true or the good unless he abhors the multitude; and the artist, though he may employ the crowd, is very careful to isolate himself. This radical principle of artistic economy applies specially to a time of crisis…”
Spinoza the Outcast wrote, “Inner peace is found in harmony with nature, but not necessarily in the sense of retreating into the wilderness.” (My translation from the Latin, with dictionary in hand.)
Jack London, the outcast, named it “The Call of the Wild” (a phrase I often hear in my daydreams). But the call of the wild, he knew, is anywhere we are, even if it be the crowded city. Our hearts are wild.
I once knew a Lady from Ireland, beautiful, gorgeous, red-haired, blue-eyed, who could communicate on a deep level with any animal she ever met, including the wild ones.
I literally saw her call over deer, raccoons, squirrels and owls with no food and only to be spoken to.
Her long, long red hair when she did this would turn to a kind of golden, smoldering fire. Kneeling in the grass. Her blue eyes were responsible for the blueness of the sky.
(One time, long after it was over, she said to me, “Baby, I still love you.”)
She was nothing short of an artist of life.
***
I once composed a poem in my lonely depression called “A Dog Is My Walden,” in which I said, or which was somehow said for me (cheering me up), “A dog is my Walden / Pond, my Whitman Leaves, / My Dickinson Sun-down.”
The pond, the leaves, the sun-down, always until we aren’t any more.
Diogenes said, “A friend is one soul residing in two bodies.” And, “Dogs and philosophers do the greatest good and get the fewest rewards.”
The greatest reward, though, is that they have each other.
***
END NOTE to Self and All: Unlike far too many other creatures right now, Siberian Huskies are not going extinct. Though they vastly prefer the chillier locales on Planet Earth, they can live almost anywhere (many are surprised by this, but their fur has a kind of natural air conditioning); they’re capable of surviving in the wild as easily as a coyote or fox; and they almost never get cold, no matter how cold it gets wherever they are. The Chukchi people, who created, or bred them, believe that these animals are the returned spirits of departed ancestors. As such, even when starving in the harsh conditions of Siberia, the Chukchi always refuse to use these animals for food.
Living in this dying empire drags us down, even when we don’t know that’s what’s doing it to us.
Siberian Huskies’ fur, when wet, smells like sweet perfume.
When given the chance, they love to dance alone in the falling snow.
Image – A colourful collection of leaves, petals and seeds. Pot Pourri
literally stories 
Hello Dale
Dogs are the best people. And although Dogs are the best judges of human character, they are forgiving to a fault, thus proving the saying, sometimes, unfortunately, to their own pain.
Sir Boo is a charmer (whose pictures are all over saragunsprings.com), who really should be President, but he knows that is a silly job for silly people who do silly things that haven’t meant much since LBJ got the Civil Rights amendment passed (if not for Vietnam, he would have been a great president). Mainly, if not already rich, they use it to get that way (just google the Obama’s and Clinton’s net worth–Before and After).
Lots of people write about Dogs, but they usually get a bad case of the “gushies” when they do, because Dogs (and Cats and animals in general) have that over us. Still, here, you keep the emotion and create new thoughts on the subject as good writing should do.
(Although, shameless, I encourage anyone who has a bit of time to check out DWB on saragunsprings.com)
Leila
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Hi Leila!
Since the chosen subject was Dogs, I tried to approach and create this piece with a Dickensian spirit in mind. That sometimes involves walking a fine line between being open-hearted and plunging into sentimentality, I imagine.
One thing I can say for sure is this, even if this piece seems sentimental to some, it’s also 100% authentic. I really am that much of a soft-hearted person when it comes to dogs. Actually more so, this piece is really rather understated as compared to my true love and respect for this animal.
So much of modern life is dead, and it’s dead because it’s robotic, machine-made, manufactured, corporate, and conformist, but dogs are real and are none of those other things.
Like you, I wish to invite interested readers to explore more of my work on Saragun Springs. Every Sunday, I bring a small band of Brilliant, Cutting-Edge Readers more inspiring thoughts from a character called THE DRIFTER.
THE DRIFTER was inspired by me, but he is not me, because he calls himself The Drifter.
Saragun Springs also includes regular work by other brilliant creators, including POETRY by Leila Allison, some of the best poetry being written in America now, in fact, and brilliant short stories and nature photography by Christopher J. Ananias and Mick Bloor stories, as well as thoughtful essays by the likes of Mr. Doug Hawley.
SARAGUN SPRINGS. A great compliment to Literally. And much more to come as autumn comes on.
Dale
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Thanks for sharing your memories. Now I have them, too. All are great. Ed
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Ed
Thank you so much, I’m glad this piece about furry friends and family members resonated with you. Thanks for letting me know! About to go take my three dogs for a long ramble right now…
Dale
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A beautiful essay about dogs … and so much more. The dogs in my life, starting when I was four: Blackie, Inky, Skippy, Loki, Thor, Louis, and Annabelle (oh, Annabelle). Now Corrine. Adopted after five years of abuse, she’s trying to learn to trust. We’re giving her the time and space she needs. Whenever it’s about dogs, it’s about so much more.
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David
Thank you for sharing the names of your dogs, those are some cool names and somehow names say so much! I know you recently lost your beloved animal and am so happy to hear you’ve adopted another. Dogs who have been mistreated can be more than a handful, thanks for doing what you can in whatever way you can.
I was in Bloomington, Illinois, William Wantling territory, earlier this weekend. My daughter ended up not going to Illinois State University this semester but I took her down there to visit friends and thought of yourself and Wantling.
Dale
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Nothing Lassie-eyed about this. Clear-eyed & beautifully judged, the unhurried pace itself a pleasure. Was momentarily jolted when I first glimpsed the title. For years, my go-to-score was a Scotsman nicknamed Sevendogs. Every day he’d walk his own two or three dogs & would earn extra £ walking other people’s dogs – often walking the whole pack at the same time. Memorably lavish he was too in his care of them. As ever in your writings, no matter the surrounds, or who else may or may not be around, there’s always the eloquence of sheer engagement.
After a hard day’s lens-grinding, Spinoza would often be entertained by the antics of the spiders in his room; he forbade anyone clean his room of cobwebs. If there’s parable in there somewhere, I know of just the man to make it breathe . . .
Geraint
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Geraint
Your voice is always loud and clear in the best of ways because it’s so unique, individuated, one-of-a-kind, and the word “eloquence” always occurs.
True eloquence is hard to find these days, a rare thing at every level in a world all-too-crowded with dead words (usually stolen from others and rehashed and recycled in a vapid, unforgivable manner).
Eloquence and being eloquent are the many elements of artistic speech in writing and your comments always elevate the practice of commenting into an art, which is utterly cutting edge, and much-needed as an example for the future and now. (If we can’t say it well perhaps we shouldn’t say it at all believing we can, until we get better, anyway.)
Thank you!
Dale
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Thanks, Dale. A very fine hymn of praise to dogs, the companions and consolations of humankind. Over the years, I’ve been consoled by dogs, cats, budgies, goldfish, and various kinds of poultry. For many years, I had secret yearning for a parrot, but it was not to be.
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Mick
I’m sad you never had your parrot companion, but the dream is pretty cool anyway all on its own!
Looking forward to another Mick Week in SARAGUN SPRINGS in the very near future.
Dale
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Dale,
This discussion should include squirrels. Un-domesticable, yet so willing to philosophize matters circling a tree.
My first dog was Diogenes. Smarter than me, but open to be misunderstood.
Interesting post! — gerry
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Gerry
Squirrels do seem to have a leg up on humans somehow, as they live everywhere among them but the majority of the human population finds them cute, or at least not too offensive, unlike the more dastardly rat for example.
Diogenes is a fine name for a dog for many reasons, this animal must have been quite intelligent to outdo you in the intelligence department! Are you sure that was true or was he good at pretending?
Rock on and thank you as always!
Dale
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Hi Dale
I like the advice of Zen. It is folly to compare or expect anything from others.
Dogs are such social creatures. You really can be alone with a dog and not feel alone. A sort of telemetry exists. The person forgets the great friendship that can be theirs, or they take it for granted. Pining away after some fickle human. I can see why dogs are therapy assistants.
Dogs and humans are joined at the hip and both are always greeting one another and each other. Dogs are friendlier, but not always of their own kind. Even mean dogs. usually made mean by mean people, can find each other develop a friendship. When no one else could stand them. The person is usually the worst of the two.
Great history of your dogs, and the spiritualism they represent. They transcend.
Boo creating the magic in the parking lot is pretty wonderful. The estimation of a good time in “A cheap grocery store parking lot” really could last. I like that description. Something gritty and real about your descriptions of people and places!
Boo is an awesomely beautiful dog–all your dogs are. They should have their own TV show!
Christopher
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Hi Christopher!
Thanks for understanding the spiritualism of dogs, and also knowing that there are very few dogs who are born “bad.” Almost all of them who get mean, including pit bulls, are made that way by men (and a few women) although it is necessary to “fix” the males in certain dog breeds so they can live peacefully in today’s people-packed civilization/s.
For too many people in this world, dogs are just dogs.
In the old days, they came up with the term “for the dogs.” Meaning they would give the food the humans didn’t want to the dogs.
So now we think “for the dogs” means the people then thought the dogs were lowly.
When actually it meant the people then thought the dogs were the next thing besides humans on the hierarchy, as there isn’t a phrase “for the hogs” or “for the cows,” since those animals were rarely (or never) given human food.
But the dogs have always been given human food. Indeed, that was one of the points we bonded with them about in the beginning!
But food and sharing meals is spiritual too (all we have to do to know that is look through the New Testament).
“For the dogs” doesn’t mean the dogs are beneath us (except literally under the table), it means they are on our level in the sense we’re willing to share with them in a way we won’t with other creatures! (Eventually cats and other creatures came to be included in the human animal family circle, but it’s indisputable that dogs (as wolves) got there first.)
Thanks again for your spiritualist understanding of the animal kingdom not just dogs!
Dale
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Hi Dale
Great point about “to the dogs.” We’ve had that conversation about why, “to the dogs?” Like everything bad has gone to the dogs.
Like they are lowly. Glad you cleared that up! Great why to put it. A true enlightenment! Thank you!
In the Hierarchy of the Apex predator. Man is not at the top alone. He is at the top partnered with the dog. A formidable team.
I think it’s a God thing.
Now dogs are less active as co-hunters, They have an even keener emotional sense of what humans need in a robotically cold world. They are still helping us maintain in countless ways. They want us to succeed so they can also succeed. That’s why they came into our dark cave and offered friendship.
Dogs are the best! They deserve everything that is good. I spend a lot of my time with our two dogs and they are couch dogs too! lol.
Christopher
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Hi Dale,
There is no way in Hell’s earth could I have said ‘No’ to this!!
Weirdly, just spoke to a guy at 6.00am the other morning who was walking a Husky who was prancing and bounding like a foal on Eccies – ‘Beautiful dog’ I said. He replied with, ‘Aye but she’s a prick – Here’s me running late for my work and this one just wants to dance for people!’
The guy / dog’s attitude is what it’s all about!!
Jesus – That made my day!!
I had an argument with a friend of mine regarding dogs versus kids. I reckon I won – I said that you have a companion there who would never consider for a second, not putting their life in harms way to protect you, whereas a kid will kill you for your jewellery or put you in a home and then steal your jewellery!!! (That would depend on the Insurance Policy!!)
I’m sure I have mentioned this a few times before, I love the line by whoever who stated – ‘Please let me be half the man that my dog believes me to be.’
…Then we have the FurHats (Both us were working shifts at the time so it would have been unfair to a dog, so we got two sociopaths. (Cats)) – Now that is a mental issue from both sides! Cat owners just accept the suffering!!!!!!!!!!
We are the Service Gimps to their being!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
…Oh and my house is fucked at their claws!!
I love animals, they do what they do, have loyalty if they want but there is no hidden agendas – Can we say that about people???
Your affinity with dogs is an attraction for those wise enough to know this!!!!
All the very best my fine friend.
Hugh
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Hi Hugh!
Thanks for saying Yes to this piece and for your large-hearted feelings about dogs and animals in general. I’ve never owned a cat but I’ve been good friends with more than a few.
That thing you mentioned about canines not having a hidden agenda is the crux of the issue.
Their levels of authenticity and sincerity with zero fakery and malicious underhanded intent makes them shine with halos almost. In fact, compared to most humans they are indeed near-angelic creatures. Sometimes when the mind gets wild I even wonder if they have angels (or angelic spirits) living inside them.
They are placid and self-contained (for the most part) and we stressed-out humans who are always worried about tomorrow can learn much from them! If everyone chilled out and acted more like dogs in that way, things would get better. And they never have a reason for saying hi other than the fact that they think it’s their duty to greet the world with canine good cheer. Even the shy ones are friendly in their own way.
Thanks again at every level!
Dale
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Research topics I followed:
Cats are the only animals that domesticated themselves. They hunted rats in graineries which endeared themselves to humans.
Wolves were brought to humans by eating scraps that were thrown out. The less fearfull eventually associated with people, and thus. Some wolves eventually produced dogs.
I have no memory or brain since my editor moved us to Sunset City (generic for retirement home) so apologies in advance.
Previously I commented on Cyclops (inferred from elephant skulls) and unicorn (inferred from paintings by earlier people of bulls in profile having two horns appear as one).
Last cat died a year or so ago in my arms. We are now pet free, and I”m probably close to earth free.
Thanks Dale, we may not deserve our non-human companions.
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Thank you, Doug.
See Saragun Springs for relevant comments on Sunset City. More later!
Dale
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This was a beautiful, heartfelt, and truly thought-provoking read. The point about being both alone and not alone is quite profound in this context. I’m also pleased to meet a fellow dog lover (although I haven’t had a canine companion of my own since my early 20s). My childhood dog, Dumbo, used to come to me when I was asleep and and take a huge, sloppy, searching sniff in my ear and wake me up, in fact I truly believe he last did it 3 months after he died (or it was a dream, but that’s a whole other story).
Anyway, I loved this also for its numerous insights into history, philosophy, and literature, and with the selection of quotations, the Eliot one perhaps being my favourite for its simplicity and beauty.
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