A work of almost breathtaking visual beauty that manages to ravish the heart while dazzling the eye simultaneously, neither at the expense of the other.
I invite you to view this video. I will have some comments later.
The video was sent to me by my old pal Mike Jones, head of the Illinois State Lottery. It's viral, with more than 5 million hits. It is very short and simple. I view it again.
I believe it was the writer W. G. Sebald who said: "Men and animals regard one another across a gulf of mutual incomprehension." No animal seems to comprehend us better than the dog. For that matter, I comprehend them more than any other. Like the Nicolas Cage character in Herzog's "Bad Lieutenant," I have no idea what an iguana is thinking. Does an iguana?
Growing up on the books by Albert Payson Terhune, I developed an early love for dogs. It didn't bother me that one bit me on the cheek at Mrs. Meadrow's Play School. It was my fault. I'd tried to ride her like a horse.
Now look again at that video.
The dog perhaps weighs more than the boy. At this point it has more life wisdom. It's pretending to be led. The boy considers the puddle, stoops, an and carefully puts down the leash. As they first approach the puddle, the dog lists slightly to starboard, suggesting the puddle be avoided. When the boy puts down the leash, the dog takes a small step forward, suggesting they continue down the lane. The boy makes his decision. The dog turns, observes, accepts, and chooses body language that says, "Don't look at me. I didn't want him to do that.
glances down at the leash, back at the puddle, perhaps guesses what will happen next, and remains in place as if the leash were fastened to the earth. It is completely accepting, and waits with content.
If a raccoon approached the boy, the dog would snap into attack mode, hairs bristing, fangs bared, saliva dripping. It would growl and bark and run at the raccoon. I believe that the dog would be fully prepared to die for that boy. But the dog is no fool. It doesn't go wading in the puddle.
The boy gets the good of the puddle. He picks up the leash again, and boy and dog resume their journey.
John McPhee wrote that the early dogs, godless, observed that Man controlled food, shelter and fire, and cast their lot with these hairless animals. Now they had a god. Observing that men liked to pet them, dogs encouraged them to touch. Most dogs are willingly obedient. They even bite someone on command, but if their owner commands a dog to bite himself, they grow anxious and lose their posture, looking away uneasily. Something is wrong in the fundament of the universe. The god has failed.
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