Last night, I asked Béla if she had a bobby pin.
This morning, I told her to 'Take care' as I walked out the door for work.
A friend recently asked if I talk to Béla while I'm walking her. "What do you mean?", I responded. At first, I didn't know to what she was referring...like, of course I tell her to move it along, give it up, leave it, and so on, but...besides that?
Later I realized the extent of my one-way verbal communication. I excuse myself when I burp and she's the only one around to hear it. I commiserate over the general state of society. I occasionally ask for outfit critique. Being sick recently clued to me into how very much I talk to her. I literally begged her to make me a cup of tea and pass me a cough drop. Nothing.
I don't stop with requests or lamentations. I like to fill the space with my voice....and so....I spoke to her in FAKE FRENCH (and by this I don't mean with a Pepe Le Pew-like 'French' accent -- I mean I spoke in non-English words that had no meaning behind them) for about 4 minutes straight one night. She had her head cocked in a nearly 90-degree angle the entire time.
While I do not speak French, I do speak Italian. And so it has come to be that Bela does a little bit, too. She knows the basic commands in Italian as thoroughly as she does in English. "Come here" isn't so much the sound of the words as it is the command in my voice. I could say any combination of syllables; if she's found a piece of meat on the street, she's not coming. Period. That said - I do like to think of her as bilingual. To imagine ourselves in Florence someday, and how effortlessly she'll blend with the locals.
While on some level, I think it's healthy - for her, for me -- hell, she's more alive than a plant!, and we're supposed to talk to them!...I do wonder what this discourse has done to my brain. I think I may think that she's more a capable person than a...you know.....a...a...(I just don't want to say it. ok?....) Because: I actually had the thought one day while my family was in town, 'Maybe Bela could babysit Olivia while Kori and I go to the gym.' I did manage to catch myself before I PRESENTED MY SISTER WITH THE THOUGHT THAT MY DOG COULD BABYSIT HER DAUGHTER. But let's just say I'm a little uncomfortable with how long it took me to reach the conclusion that this was not an appropriate course of action.
And so it seems talking to her both keeps me sane and lends itself to insanity. I'll continue to tread that fine line.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
Wild Ones
I was nuzzling Bela's face recently, just cooing...when I realized a rather large part of the reason nuzzling her means so much to me. Because: it shouldn't be.
A canine...curled up in my bed, looking more like a teddy bear than a beast...that allows me total control?
Yes; it means so much to me because it shouldn't be.
Avid animal lovers often acquire many types of animals in their home, though there are limitations on what we can own. Bela is your run-of-the-mill pet, 1 of the 2 most commonly cared for.
I have often pondered what it would be like to own a ferret, a monkey, a sugarglider. Things that don't seem to belong in a home. Things that seem like a bit more of a challenge. Let's take the big cats, for instance. I'd MUCH rather own a lion than a dog. Why? Because it shouldn't be.
There is certain appeal in loving something you shouldn't. My God -- it's the stuff on which books are written, and lives torn apart. It's the reason for potions and poems, polygamy and prison.
We love to tame the wild. We love to fight rationale, and forge ahead, emotions running deep, into the abyss of the uknown. It is an escapade, a ride - we're guaranteed more.
What feels better than something/or someone loving you against all odds?? Nothing. You are the exception to the rule, the straw that broke the camel's back.
The dog, though now known as 'man's best friend', certainly didn't start out that way. I occasionally feel overwhelming sympathy for them. We domesticated them, pushed their natural instincts down and demanded they be our butlers -- and bouncers.
They don't complain, instead, give back exactly what we commanded. Love unabridged. Loyalty unending.
A pitbull and its owner passed me by today. The pit was glaringly strong, muscles rippled underneath taut, taupe skin. It wasn't walking so much as kicking, one leg at a time. Pulling it's owner from the lead, desperately trying to get somewhere. Where? Sad was the leash that ran behind it, and the muzzle on its face. What was this animal meant for? It resembled a circus act more than a sidewalk convention. It pained me.
When I got home, I did kiss Bela on the head and sing her a little song, but I also made a concerted effort the rest of the evening to allow her her space. To let her jump on me. To give her the raw meat dinner without adding flax seed oil. To try not to quelch every last ounce of [wild]life she has in her.
A canine...curled up in my bed, looking more like a teddy bear than a beast...that allows me total control?
Yes; it means so much to me because it shouldn't be.
Avid animal lovers often acquire many types of animals in their home, though there are limitations on what we can own. Bela is your run-of-the-mill pet, 1 of the 2 most commonly cared for.
I have often pondered what it would be like to own a ferret, a monkey, a sugarglider. Things that don't seem to belong in a home. Things that seem like a bit more of a challenge. Let's take the big cats, for instance. I'd MUCH rather own a lion than a dog. Why? Because it shouldn't be.
There is certain appeal in loving something you shouldn't. My God -- it's the stuff on which books are written, and lives torn apart. It's the reason for potions and poems, polygamy and prison.
We love to tame the wild. We love to fight rationale, and forge ahead, emotions running deep, into the abyss of the uknown. It is an escapade, a ride - we're guaranteed more.
What feels better than something/or someone loving you against all odds?? Nothing. You are the exception to the rule, the straw that broke the camel's back.
The dog, though now known as 'man's best friend', certainly didn't start out that way. I occasionally feel overwhelming sympathy for them. We domesticated them, pushed their natural instincts down and demanded they be our butlers -- and bouncers.
They don't complain, instead, give back exactly what we commanded. Love unabridged. Loyalty unending.
A pitbull and its owner passed me by today. The pit was glaringly strong, muscles rippled underneath taut, taupe skin. It wasn't walking so much as kicking, one leg at a time. Pulling it's owner from the lead, desperately trying to get somewhere. Where? Sad was the leash that ran behind it, and the muzzle on its face. What was this animal meant for? It resembled a circus act more than a sidewalk convention. It pained me.
When I got home, I did kiss Bela on the head and sing her a little song, but I also made a concerted effort the rest of the evening to allow her her space. To let her jump on me. To give her the raw meat dinner without adding flax seed oil. To try not to quelch every last ounce of [wild]life she has in her.
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