The Animal Advantage

Bela has a lot of power over me and you could say that she knows how to pull my strings. But I straight up use her. While I love her deeply, and she's my fave all-around animal, she has also become my bait. I can get closer now to all the other hounds around this city than ever before.

(Most) dogs love to greet other dogs. They get excited the minute they become aware of a fellow fleabag approaching. Some spin, some crouch down, some just sit -- waiting until the introductions are made.

Bela is an exception to this. She could care less if she meets the dog down the block. She is interested in people, places and things - not other dogs. However, since that is a rarity in the canine world, I am able to pull the wool over others' eyes. I first let them know with a look that we are game for the greeting. Then I start caressing their dog while she avoids it like the plague. Occasionally, I make excuses. "I don't know what's wrong with her today", I say, all while keeping my hands firmly planted on their pooch. I only have a few moments before the pet and parent realize that she's not into it, and take off.

While many owners seem to revel in a street exhibition, there are the occasional walking hermits. I know a dog is man's best friend, but just because you replaced the humans in your life with a mutt does take said dog's desire to interact with other life forms away.
When a pet owner ignores my pleading eyes, or speeds up, so as to bypass the interaction, I furrow my brow.  I have been known to say some varietal of the statement, 'Some people don't understand joy and love', sometimes loud enough to be heard. (I do not say this if the owner and/or dog look to be of a violent nature.)

Now, I know people have places to go...but a dog's walk is its special time. It's their daily Quinceañera, their time to shine. The sidewalk their runway, the public their audience.

When I spot a dog whose body shape I admire, I quicken my pace. If the dog stops and sniffs at least a couple times, and I tug a little on Bela's leash, I can usually make it in time to at least swipe my hand down their back. I don't always ask for permission, though I do gauge the owner and dog's vibe, to see if this seems like a safe move. Will I be bit anyway, some day? Likely.

I do, of course, have some favorites. The breeds that bring to mind the call of the wild -- the fox dog, the husky. I like a regal dog too -- Great Danes and weimaraners make me weak in the knees. A few little dudes light me up as well -- namely, mini pinschers and chihuahuas.

I like thin dogs. Fatties don't catch my eye. Rather, they catch it but I then look away, disgusted. I shouldn't act this way. God knows they aren't feeding themselves. There is a black chow that I see around...his middle is so large (and the afro isn't helping anything), he appears to be just barely balancing his weight on his fluffy feet.

I am surely influenced in my idea of beauty by Bela. I call her middle her carriage. She has a beautiful carriage. It is taught, while not too thin, and full, while not overflowing. It swings from side to side with her gait. Some dogs prance, some strut, some hunker. Now, be it known that a prancer's owner delights in their dance being called out. But the hunkering shepard's owner probably doesn't want you remarking on their dog's lackluster stature.

Last week, Bela and I encountered a real looker. A brindle greyhound, accompanied by a young couple. We met, we're moving, we're walking, we're talking...and then I lean over and plant one on their dog's head. Neither of them reacted, but I quickly stated the obvious: "I just kissed your dog on the head." Then they giggled a bit. "Yes. Yes you did", they said, to which I replied, "I'm sorry. I do that sometimes. I know maybe I shouldn't. But sometimes I just can't help myself..." They both reassured me that not only is it okay; but that they wholeheartedly approve...and if the opportunity presents itself again, that I should go for it. (Obviously, I will scour the neighborhood for these 2 and that long-legged beauty of a dog they have from now on...)

So the meet & greet is for me, not her. I'm sure some people can see through me, or rather see Bela's dead eyes and the sparkle in mine. I don't care. If you'd stand here just a little while longer, I could really get some quality time in with your dog.

You can take the girl of the the country...

Bela hails from Tennessee. She's a southern lady with some southernish traits. She is gentle and loving, yet tough as nails. She appreciates her fine food, but would be pleased to catch herself a rabbit just as well. She is wild and cunning, yet couth. She's a real beauty, and able-bodied to boot.

I like to muse on her past life and what it may have been. I wish I knew, so I could in a sense, know her better. She could have run through the Great Smoky Mountains, warmed herself by fires and toasted her latest kill with a pack. I bet she could catch low-flying birds in flight, and turkeys in the night.

I would be lying if I didn't admit to feeling, at times, quite tortured for her, in her lack of access to the great wide open nowadays. It is because of this, that I took her goosehunting last weekend.

What is goosehunting, you ask? Well, it's me and a leashed Bela, traversing through the ponds of Lincoln Park, finding and taking out packs of geese. Well, we took on stragglers as well, but the packs were definately more fun. Seeing our prey from a distance, her body stance would change into huntmode. I'd allow her to move like this for a bit, as we quietly approached. Then - BAM! - I would run with her, full speed, towards the geese!! We got so close a few times that I swear both she and I came up with tiny feathers in our mouths. It's not like running them into the water was enough for her. She attempted to jump in a couple of times and actually did get her front paws in a section of shallow water once. I was so worn out from running like a psycho all the way to the waterfront, that I released my deathgrip on her leash for one second and there she was, wading her way in.

Many parkgoers stopped in their tracks. Some laughed, almost approvingly, some scowled and some looked geniunely dumbfounded. A midget and a medium sized dog running violently through the park, scaring the geese into the freezing water? Cute? No. Interesting? Yes.

I sacrificed my vanity for this expedition. Not just the vanity surrounding my physical appearance; that was obviously out the door, as my pants were falling down, shoes untied, hair flailing, and chest heaving. My arthritic knees (that are NOT supposed to be running) also gave out every now and then mid-stride, which really gave the geese an unfair advantage.)

I sacrificed also my image as a non-crazy dog owner. I want to look sane. I long to be 'normal'. But hell - she's worth throwing caution to the wind and allowing myself to look deranged. Her legs were shaking in hunter's joy! Her neck was rigid with attention. Her whole being was tuned into its natural frequency.

When all the geese were safely floating away, I walked her back to the car. I felt terrible taking her home, to pass the rest of her day (i.e. lifetime) in an apartment. But, she was heavy with fatigue and rested peacefully. I gave her a taste of the old, so that she can appreciate the new.

I am sorry for Tennessee's loss, but glad for Chicago's gain. We got a good one. She may have not come here willingly, but here she is and I will do my best to make sure she's content in this big city life. She's a country girl, like myself. We should stick together.

So I can't give her the Smoky Mountains. But I can give her a Lincoln Park goosehunt every now and then. And in between, we'll turn tennis balls into birds and stuffed animals into the real thing.