Shhh...he doesn't know.
May 22, 2017 (apparently Victoria Day here in Canada)
Day 3 of our #riskylizness #summer2017 #rubbertrampin #glampin #travel from Fairbanks, AK to Hibbing, MN and all around!
Today we took an easy 2-hour hike up to Malkow Viewpoint here in Smithers, BC, Canada. After putting in two long days driving about 1400 miles we figured it was good to stretch our stiff bodies, but not challenge ourselves too much. This hike was perfect for that.
Because this hike was about as intense as the Victoria Day celebrations here, we were able to hold a conversation amidst minimal huffing and puffing and such distant noise that we weren't sure if it was ominous thunder or celebratory fireworks. Jem (our 9-year-old black lab) became our focus as we were having to periodically leash and unleash him as the trail weaves across private farms up to a cell tower above the city.
Jem doesn't do too stellar on a leash. Not because he is a bad dog, actually, quite the opposite. He is a wonderful dog that we rarely leash because he is so loyal and sticks so close, almost annoyingly so. Of course, when he's on the leash, he just wants to push forward, yanking our arms out of socket. We were on a downhill stretch between farmlands that did not require the leash so we had let him off to prance around like he does, when we came upon an elderly man walking his Pomerian up the trail. I called Jem back and leashed him up as a courtesy.
"Oh, is your dog aggressive?" the pudgy old man inquired from down below as he reluctantly bent over to scoop up his tiny dog.
I politely chuckled, "Not at all, he's really friendly." The first half of that statement is true, the second half is false. Jem isn't aggressive, but he isn't friendly either. Jem is just oblivious to other dogs.
In relief, probably more from not having to bend over and lift rather than the possible danger his pupper was in, the wispy white-haired man stood up and replied, "Oh, good. My girl might snap at him." He grinned as we passed by peacefully.
"He really could not care less about other dogs." Robyn observed.
"Yeah, I only leashed him again to be polite. You never know how other people and their dogs are going to react." I replied. Then went on, "Sometimes, I wonder if he thinks he is human?" I've had Jem since he was a tiny baby puppy of only 6 weeks old, but this was the first time this thought occurred to me.
Now, this is in stark contrast to our very bad dog, Radar, who passed away last year at an estimated 15 years old. Radar was a tiny, mischievous human in disguise. Radar understood English (even spelling), he rested like a person tucked under the covers with his head on a pillow, and he was naughty in such a unique way like an evil 5th grader who possessed an ability to plot revenge yet skirt the line that would make you pack him off to summer camp, or the dog pound, permanently.
It's not that Jem does human-like things as Radar did, it's just that most of his behaviors indicate that he has very little to zero awareness of typical dog behaviors: he doesn't bark much, he doesn't sniff butts, he doesn't chew up our valuables, he doesn't roll in unidentifiable sewer rot, he doesn't eat poop, he doesn't howl at distant sirens, he doesn't hump our friends' toddlers --- these are all things our other 3 dogs did on a regular basis. His only redeeming dog qualities are 1) eating everything in his path, and 2) chasing a ball for fetch, however, anyone that knows me will understand that he could come by these behaviors quite honestly, taking after his momma.
Robyn and I mused over these things for a bit, then fell into silent step as we trekked back down the countryside. My mind wandered. Identity is mysterious and flexible. Today, heritage and culture swirl together in an unknowable space like in that of a back eddy. The dynamic between what we know ourselves to be and how the world sees us is ever in friction. I think of parents who don't want their children to be identified by their special needs or children who wish to be identified by a different gender or the people I know that fight to hook any common thread they can with every person they encounter. However, before I am drowned in thought we pop out into the field at the end of our hike. A couple of young girls are just opening the first gate to start their tiny adventure up the hill. Jem greets them.
"Aren't you a handsome dog?" She beams.
We pass by. "Shhh..." I whisper, "He doesn't know."