Reflections from Bo Obama

You've got to read this piece by Ben Greenman called "The First Hundred (Dog) Days" from today's New York Times. It offers a light-hearted touch to this (very foggy where I am) Friday morning.

Of course there's no mention that any of these White House dogs, past and present, share one of Digory's least appealing traits. Let's just say it's a variation on eating garbage, and leave it at that!

Enjoy! Or perhaps I should say, Wag more, bark less. You could even try rolling over and getting your belly scratched.

Images: two more drawings of Digory poses from August, 2007.

Top: what we call "half-Corgi position" (kind of like a "half-lotus" in yoga). Full Corgi position is more squarely on his belly with both back feet showing.

In case you're wondering what the script says, it's this: "He heard Dave from the study and lifted his head but luckily for me did not shift his hind end."

Bottom: Digory's best belly up pose, suggesting complete and blissful relaxation.

Text: "wish granted," which in this case was actually my wish, not his. On the page before, I had started to draw him when he moved. And I wrote: "How I wish he'd roll back again."

A Word from Walt

Yesterday I ran across a favorite set of lines from Walt Whitman, part of his "Song of Myself". So here they are, without adornment or commentary from me:

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd,

I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,

Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,

Not one kneels to another nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,

Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

Image: a sketch of Digory snoozing, August 2007.

Reality Bites

Well, there I was sitting on the back step blogging rapturously about spring, and my dog caught and killed a chipmunk. Just like that.

I don't think he "meant to"--I think he so enthusiastically grabbed in his jaws the not-so-bright chipmunk, and that was that. A far faster and more merciful death than a cat might inflict, although with cats (and well-timed human intervention) the chipmunk sometimes manages to get away and live.

So, there we are. A bite of reality about the bite of reality. Poor unsuspecting chipmunk. Not sure why he/she kept making so much of noise calling attention to his/her whereabouts. That's what got Digory interested. 

I think Digory was kind of mystified by the whole thing--he set the chippie down on the ground, witnessed its last dying twitches, and then really didn't seem to know what to do. Just kind of sat there by its side, a little hang-dogish. I trust his Corgi-psyche won't be wracked by self-recrimination or shame. He is still and always, fully and only a dog, after all.

Philosopher Dog/Artist Dog

Digory has tramped out a perfect question mark in the snow. He went out around some object, or just because he felt like it, curved around, then stopped and retraced his steps. The only thing missing is the dot at the bottom. 

I wonder what his question is. Something tells me it's not about the existence of g.o.d. (which reminds me of the one about the dyslexic atheist, who didn't believe in the existence of dog, ha ha!). 

Or maybe he's not a philosopher dog at all, but an artist dog who likes making cool curves in the snow. He also likes rolling on his back in snow, and  also endlessly cooling and cleaning his muzzle in it, pushing himself along like a plow with his thick stumpy forepaws folded back at the "wrists" while his head makes small rocking movements to get the snow sensation on every last itchy inch. Dog bliss in winter.