The Invisible Dog
When James was very small, one of his playmates was an invisible dog. The dog arrived in our lives before James was entirely verbal, but there were things about how he played that strongly suggested something dog-like in the equation sometimes. At about this time, a rather high profile Druid at an event asked me if I knew that my child had a dog and I was able to say that yes, I did know this.
As James became more verbal, I learned more about the dog. His name was Jesper, and he was a yellow dog with red ears. Now, if you know your folklore, you’ll be aware that a pale dog with red ears might be a fairy dog, or from the Welsh underworld, or part of The Wild Hunt. I knew this, but it was hardly the kind of folklore my barely verbal child had come into contact with. I treated the dog I could not see with total respect and no small amount of nervousness. I never saw him, but I did have a strong sense of dog-ness sometimes, and he never seemed hostile. Still, it’s quite a thing to have to wonder if you have a fairy dog hanging out in your home.
The funniest Jesper story involved he, James and I walking in a wood. Someone else’s dog approached us with great enthusiasm and barked at us a lot.
“Leave them alone,” the owner called out. “They don’t have a dog.”
James and I looked at each other because we were fairly sure that we did have a dog, and that this other dog could see him. It was an odd and memorable moment.
As James grew up, Jesper appeared less frequently and he’s not been around in quite some time. I have no idea what any of that was about, really. James was never inclined to try and make it mean something – it was just that there was an invisible dog in his life, and he really liked the invisible dog.
It would have been an easy opportunity to rubbish James’s perceptions and self expression and to make him feel uncomfortable about what he was sharing. I don’t have any way of knowing what he experienced, but Jesper was around for some years. He wasn’t an excuse for things James had done, or a way of trying to demand things, he was just an uncanny dog who hung out with us sometimes. Whatever else was going on, Jesper did not exist as a way for James to try and control or manipulate the world.
I tend to trust things more when they don’t make a great deal of sense. I think when things are tidy and easy to explain, they’re often what they appear to be. I think when we’re able to load things with meaning and significance it’s a good idea to be more wary of them. Things that just are, seem a lot more trustworthy to me, and so I never suggested to James that Jesper was silly or unwelcome, and when he was old enough to hear it, I told him the folklore about pale dogs with red ears. It’s interesting to note that he just found this really interesting and a bit exciting, and it in no way changed how he talked about the dog in his life.
(I’m sharing childhood stories about James with his permission, and I’m running with a theme of childhood experiences and magic).
