Walks with Dogs

Three Arches National Monument, Oregon

“You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.”
- Emily Dickinson

A 7-year relationship broke up in 1995. I had let it go on too long anyway. Ironically, although I had complained constantly about this man, I came to a realization of acceptance while alone on a trip to the Oregon coast in April, 1995. The beach was shrouded in fine mist. The air was soft, the offshore rocks drifting in and out of view as in a dream. Reverence,  awe and lightness flooded me as I walked, working into my system as the gentle rain worked into my cheeks. Why did I persist in harassing this man because he didn’t earn a consistent living? It was my stern, judgmental, and, incidentally, dead Army officer father talking through me. If I was to enter a relationship with my whole heart, it was my responsibility. I must throw off dysfunctional concepts, and accept this man entirely as he was. I must be grateful for his presence in my life and, if need be, shoulder the finances entirely, just as men have done throughout history for their women. It was destructive to balk at this role reversal, and so far he had paid his share of expenses, though it took all he had.

Peace washed over me; the months of inner conflict evaporated, replaced by certainty, lightness and freedom.

A few days later, I arrived home in Reno to discover him, bags already packed and all his possessions moved, on his way out to an apartment his new girl friend found for him. Adding insult to injury, she was, so I had thought, a long-time friend.

Karma had done its dirty work and I lost what I didn’t appreciate just when I decided to appreciate it. Although I had many times wished him gone, sick of his rages and his despair — I had even buried prayer squares in the desert, planting this wish — which is a ritual you should never try unless you want the results because you will get the results — when I was faced with the moment I was dizzy with shock,  whirling and sinking faster and faster in a powerful vortex devoid of thought or control.

I sustained this loss, not without rage and grief, but it still didn’t occur to me to be alone. So I got a new partner, this time a long-distance relationship with a Yogi. It was delightful in many ways, but karma intervened again,after two years of roller coaster emotions, and it was over.

Alone in my car, in 1997 I cried out for refuge. I had already taken refuge vows several times. Each time it was happenstance, not a planned or studied event. Nevertheless, they were legitimate refuge vows, probably the result of my karma. Until that moment I had thought the First Noble Truth, that life is suffering, was  dour and depressing. Now I embraced it. I chanted alone, waiting at the stoplight; I chanted for refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. It was  like a drunk hitting bottom and calling out for AA.

Surprisingly enough, Ms. Karma smiled on this turn of events. Peace flooded me as it had in Oregon two years ago. Just like an AA recovery tale, it’s been all uphill since that day in 1997.

Today I live a life that might sound like renunciation, but it is not. It is bliss. I was told long ago that when the storm is over, the lotus will open. I live alone and celibate. I spend much of my time in solitude, walking with my dog in the silent desert. Karma has sent me enough money to be comfortable: house and cars paid for, a modest but sufficient retirement income, family in different cities: pleasant relationships, but not affecting my daily life.

My life has long fit Lama Marut’s description of the yogic lifestyle. I go to sleep and wake up with the sun; have never used an alarm clock anyway. My brain can be set if need be. If I have to catch an early plane, which is the only reason I will interfere with my biorhythms, I set it before I go to sleep. I don’t leap to answer the phone; voice mail does an excellent job, and I try not to speak to anybody unless I’m fully ready to receive them.

I am on  perpetual retreat, limiting appointments and events so there is never a rush.

The world around me is more marvelous every day.

So many people I encounter are frantic. How many phone conversations begin with “It’s so crazy right now.” A pitfall for me would be smugness. I counter that tendency with gratitude. Another danger is selfishness. I feel more strongly every day that to keep what I have, I must give it away.

I am by nature and great good fortune what could be called a renunciate, being an only child and a bookworm. Nature has always been my refuge. Growing up, we had a summer home on a lake in New York State, with 160 acres to roam. When the summer campers left in late August, my happy time began: visiting the turtles, the fish, the eels, the muskrats, the deer, the skunks, feral dogs, a pet raccoon.

Even when I worked it was not crazy. In fact, we had Fridays off for years.

I spent those free Fridays lurking in the brush or scrambling up the hills, almost always alone, with only dogs for company. The works of man, are by necessity  my heritage, instructors, and inspiration, because I am human. They reside within me, but it is nature that puts me over the top. Even in India, some of my greatest bliss was alone on the hillside trails above MacLeond Ganj, watching monkey tribes.

Lama Marut says good works, such as giving to the poor, are good for one’s karma. But he says better yet to meditate upon one’s own awakening. I still have  doubts about this. Am I doing enough to help the suffering in this world?

But I cannot deny the results of year after year of a renunciate life. The edges have softened. I am more capable of consistent kindness because I am fortified by my long periods of retreat, therefore able to give with more of a whole heart when it is time to give. This constantly surprises me. Such an outcome is well expressed in Chapter Six of the Big Book of AA: “Into Action”.

We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Being A Dog

Here’s the essential Sadie. No leash. Nobody standing over her telling her what to do. She sniffs a woodpile, home to dozens of rodents, perfectly attuned to her environment, utterly absorbed. For a few precious hours, she gets to be a dog and her world makes sense.

Writers say dogs made a bargain with us sometime in the past; a branch of the wolf family, so goes the legend, traded wild insecurity for domestic security. This is interpretation and anthropomorphism. Animals don’t “make bargains”. Animals follow the food because they’re hard-wired to do so. If they know anything, they know they don’t control a damn thing in the human world. Every time I come into the house with a bag of groceries, their little upturned eyes almost cross with amazement. How does she do it? How does she just produce food out of thin air? They do not aspire to such powers themselves, not the smartest of them.

Sadie, and Roger before her, and Melody and Melba before them, lived for hikes. They were never leashed except for trips to the vet.  In the boonies,  their speed, their energy, their hunting instincts, their autonomy, their intelligence come into play. Around the house, it’s just waiting.  They will lie around all day until I pick up my boots. Then they spring into frenzy. All my dogs who got an almost daily opportunity to be a real dogs lost interest in balls and puppy toys.

In Merle’s Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog by Ted Kerasote, this is noted. Merle had survived in the wild for about a year before moving in with Ted. And Merle had no interest in playing fetch.

Since there are at least 50 million pet dogs in the USA, shouldn’t we provide our so-called “best friends” with more actual dog experience? Keeping an animal of this grace, power and speed on a little leash forever, as suggested by one of the commenters in my previous post, is abject cruelty. Little dog parks are unnatural. A dog used to her freedom like Sadie, freaks out in such an environment. Strange dogs thrown together in a small space…that’s not what nature intended. The one time I took her to a dog park, she found her way out of it in five minutes.

It would make more sense to dedicate huge tracts of the outdoors for their enjoyment: vast ranges exclusively for dogs and people who love dogs because they are dogs, not because they are pretend human children.

As for the effete who say (and I have actually read this, but lost the source. I have the horrible suspicion it was a vet) never let a dog loose because it might get hurt, I say you have never really understood any dog. They do get hurt. There porcupine quills out there.  They get hurt a few times in a lifetime. The rest of the time they get happy. Captive over-protected dogs get fat, fat, fat. Which is worse? What was the dog’s crime? Why must it live in perpetual solitary like a prisoner in Gitmo?

Dogs are banned from our national forests. Forest managers are busy “preserving species” which usually means tinkering with the balance of nature so hunters have enough “game”. I hate all the terminology of hunting and trapping, hence my excessive quote marks. Animals aren’t “game.” They aren’t “trash animals”. They aren’t “nuisance animals.” They are who they are: victims of a shrinking habitat.

I suspect people who defend the indefensible, such as steel jaw traps, are different from me down to the DNA. My brother warned me years ago:”There are people who cry when Bambi’s mother gets shot, and people who laugh.”  Those who sense the spirit of the animals around them, and those preoccupied with power and control to the exclusion of everything else. How does the hunter not suffer an agony of loneliness when he kills the soul he has sought? How can he not feel the pain he inflicts?

Many do give up hunting and trapping as they mature. Those who persist tell me it’s “testosterone.” Does that explain Sarah Palin?  I could pin some pretty good psychobabble labels, and I would like to, but I don’t want the same done to me. So I’ll just end by saying we should treat our best friends much much better. We should do them the honor of giving them what they really need: acres of unleashed adventure. How about one national park in each state for starters?

Depressing!

February 9, 2009 Reno Gazette Journal Online
Traps don’t belong near popular paths

While hiking above Pleasant Valley, my dog was caught in a steel trap. The trap was only about 30 feet away from a path that is obviously used with some frequency for hiking. Fortunately, a friend was with me and together we were able to free my dog.

I understand that trapping is legal in Nevada from November through February, but I question the good sense of it being allowed in areas easily accessed by nearby residents and their pets. 

Beyond concerns for the safety of adults, children and their pets is the issue of the inhumanity of trapping wild animals simply to harvest their furs for clothing. If certain people simply must drape their bodies in the pelts of dead animals, there are those animals raised for that purpose, and I’m hoping that when they are harvested for their beautiful coats, that they are not first held captive in a trap without food for an unknown number of days and nights until the trapper decides to check his traps and then ends their suffering with a bullet to the head. 

Please contact your legislator if you believe the laws regarding trapping in our state need to be addressed and modified. 

Linda Anderson, Reno

Here are the online comments she got. Mine is first:

There was a movement called TrailSafe in 2007 to address this problem in the Galena area. Perhaps they are still around. Jeff DeLong of the RGJ gave excellent coverage to the controversy. You could contact him for background information and maybe how to contact TrailSafe. 

Clearly more trails need protection. One can also contact the Humane Society of the United States and make out a Trap Report which greatly helps them in national campaign to eliminate heartless, cruel trapping. Nevada state legislature was not sympathetic in 2007; maybe more so now.

++++++++++

Then follow typical RGJ comments: This one features unintelligible syntax and the writer is wrong: she did mention “it actually happened”.

ahhhok wrote: 

I agree that you should leash your dog in the desert. You may not be the only one around that has a dog. You do not mention if the trap hurt you dog. Did this actually happen or did you just stumble across a trap?

02/10/2009 7:11:24 a.m.

++++++++++

Here’s one that makes sense:

You shouldnt have to leash your dog when out hiking. Yes, in the city or parks, or congested areas, but not in the boonies, or hills. They should be able to run without getting snared in a trap when in the hills. What if it was a kid getting trapped, do they need to be leashed as well? Sometimes, its ok to not have your dog on a leash and that is up in the hills. Even if this dog was on a leash it may have gotten snared, just due to where the trap was placed.

Here’s the response she got. I thoroughly object to the leash freaks and below, in green, I will tell you why.

 Reply to above: Did you ever think about keeping your dog on a leash?

This one sounds like he’s running scared. Maybe we will ban trapping one of these days. What the hell is he defending? How can anybody, in this case “daveintonopah”, get defensive about their “right” to torture animals?

 Trapping is banned in cities and parks and congested areas. You can only trap in the boonies or hills. Why not just admit you are a liberal and want to ban trapping? 

This next comment is typical of dreck one finds in RGJ forums. Note the aggressive tone:

lisacmb…dogs should be leashed any time you have them off of your property, that is responsible dog ownership. The ONLY place an unleashed dog is acceptable is at the dog park.

And dont start me on leashing brats….er, kids….lol

And finally, a terse sympathizer: 

ausscyn wrote:
Trapping is inhumane.

02/09/2009 12:28:07 p.m.

So that is the discussion. In the next post, I’ll explain my many problems with leash freaks and leash laws and dog parks and a world that’s getting too crowded for even small dogs.

The biggest, oldest, proudest lizard I have seen in this region was a Great Basin Collared Lizard. He was slowly progressing down the riverside at Mayberry Park, years before they over-gussified it. He was over a foot long and abundantly fat. I have no pictures of my own, so have stolen a few here and there on the Internet:

Collared Lizard less colorful than the ones I have seen - lacking stripes

This picture is good insofar as it shows the wrinkly neck typical of these guys. I had a close encounter with one who was sunning on a rock in the canyons west of my home, and I duly noted that the collar was wrinkled. But this picture does not show the brown and tan stripes typical of this creature. There is a great one which I couldn’t steal. You can link to it at http://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/1370383897010347448wVYbCM I hope you do; it is exactly the lizard I saw.

Here’s one similar to my buddy, but his stripes are narrower. Perhaps because he’s from Inyo County.

Narrower stripes than the local boys. He's from Inyo County

Finally, here is something I have yet to see, but believe me, I’ll be looking. This is a gravid female Great Basin Collared Lizard.

Gravid Female Great Basin Collared Lizard - Detail

So, everybody, whatever you do, love, love, love animals.