12/20/2016 (just another one of my ponderings, a mild one though)
Humans can be such dangerous dears and for the most part, I don’t think they intend to be, though some might consciously acknowledge certain actions are at least within the realms of risky.
From The New Yorker, I came across an interesting and rather kind story about a human developing friendships (of a kind) with Wildish Animal Kin.
“Wildish” is a matter of much contemplation in my little head of late, but I’ll save that for another writing. Instead, after having read the article, my writing here is more focused upon the Dog Kin in my life.
As I gaze upon my Coco and Maya pups, curled up on my bed, I have to acknowledge one aspect certainly. The writer, David Sedaris, is of course quite right. Our relationships with Animal Kin is more if not entirely about ourselves and to a far lesser degree about the Animal Kin. The human animal is after all like any other animal, thinking and acting first for its own benefit.
For me, Dog Kin provide a far more reliable relationship than is possible with human-animals. Although I am one and subject to all the same foibles as any other, humans for me are at best tricky. They’re deceptive even unto themselves, acting from motives at times so subconscious that it might take years of self-exploration to discover the driving forces behind their behaviors. That’s if they bother with that much work as self-exploration can entail. More often than not the matter is just plaintively shrugged off and dismissed with a “That’s just the way I am.”
This characteristic of deception leads me inevitably to concerned wonders especially in terms of any human animals I develop a close bond with; what do they really want, are they actually happy, when are they leaving or what the freak am I going to do if or when they die? Terribly selfish creature that I am, I’m sure I am even worse for them as I tend to be rather obviously secretive and all too often distant, wandering about absorbed in my own thoughts.
But scripted as I am to be a human animal, there is the social nature of this animal species that must be tended to even to slight degrees. Having come, with no small surprise on my part, to fifty-one years of age, I have at long last settled on a program that works best for me – keep humans at a careful, measured distance and absolutely have Animal-Kin in my life.
Again, I am lucky and fortunate Divinity brings Animal-Kin into my life and that I have the resources with which to provide for these precious Animal-Kin.
I do what I can to make up to these endeared Animal-Kin for what amounts to be basically an imprisonment, if not outright at least to some extent. I design my little bit of garden to be their play area, filled with land features they seem to enjoy: slightly raised hills, a tunnel made from branches, mazes of sections of grasses left to grow tall (grasses compliments of the birds’ digesting the seeds offered to them in the feeder). I never use fertilizers or pesticides on the plants. I remove wild plants like the Buttercups that while I find them quite pretty are apparently poisonous to Dog Kin.
Aside of providing the best quality food and treats I can afford, I make it a point to learn what works for each Dog Kin. For my Maya pup, as an example, squeaky toys freak her out. Balls and sticks are more fun for her, so that’s what I focus on providing for dear Maya. My Coco, my right-hand girl, is a completely different story. Unlike poor Maya who was rather obviously deprived in her puppyhood, my Coco and I have played together from practically the first Blessed day she, at four months old, arrived into my life. My Coco will play with just about anything offered to her, from empty cardboard boxes to the traditional, over-stuffed, squeak toys.
I am fortunate and lucky that millennia ago someone came up with the idea of domesticating these Animal Kin, the dogs, for without these pups, these precious Dog-Kin, my life would be meaningless and short. As for me it is generally insufficient to just be, I would hope that for me such a life would be short, for to live a life devoid of meaning is not living. Or actually, brutally honestly, enduring such a life wouldn’t be worth the effort.
So far disconnected from the demanding, time-consuming, exhausting, driving forces of Natural survival, provides one with opportunity or curse to ruminate. Then again, as weak as the human animal generally is, comparative to most any other Animal Kin, the one strength it has and therefore is within its survival interest to keep exercising is its mind. Whether that exercise be for some value beyond merely the self I suppose will be up to others to decide.