Blue Blows a Belief about Belonging

For a canine like Blue, the word “belong” fits fine, mostly. Take one meaning — “to go along with.” When she’s not busy exploring for raccoons or ‘possums, Blue will go along with anyone.

Our friends Tom and Jeanie came to visit. Jeanie gets credit for my interest in birds. She had visited our cabin before we lived here full time and had heard and seen a Piliated Woodpecker, the very caricature of the cartoon character named Woody. One of my late mother-in-law’s put-downs was “trying to but can’t,” as in “That dolled-up girl is trying to but can’t.” After witnessing real Piliated Woodpeckers in the flesh (or, if you prefer, in the feather), you’d say “trying to, but can’t” describes Walter Lantz’s famous animation and its equally famous laugh as recorded by Mel Blanc. Nice try, but how could Hollywood match the hilarity of the real thing?

Jeanie brings binoculars and, more recently, her new Nikon camera. So I took her on a short hike up Whispering Lake Drive to show her where I’d heard the gentle song of the Wood Thrush. Instead of the Wood Thrush, however, we heard a baying Beagle as it raced down the mountain across our path, practically across the tops of our boots, ignoring us to chase whatever scent its nose had picked up. Tagging behind the Beagle came another dog, which by comparison, seemed enormous.

Suddenly the larger dog decided she belonged with Jeanie.

With no collar or tag, we couldn’t tell if she was an absolute stray or simply lost. She wouldn’t leave our side. She followed us to my cabin. She came up the steps with us onto the deck. She would have come inside, but we slid in and closed the door. She circled the cabin on the deck for ten minutes and peered in each glass door before letting go of her presumed welcome.

Several weeks later, she came back. “I think it’s the same dog,” I said. By this time, she had a collar and a tag with the name “Blue” and a phone number, which Paula called. “She’s a sweetheart,” Paula said, “but she gets into our things.” Paula was referring to the knocked-down birdbath and the fat footprints on the hot tub cover. “Does she belong to you?”

Now the word “belong” meant something else — “to be the property of.”

It’s a matter of responsibility. Like us, our new part-time uphill neighbors found that Blue belonged to anyone and everyone. Unlike us, since Blue made herself a part of their family, which already included a Swiss Mountain Dog named Bailey, they took responsibility for naming her, having her spayed, getting her shots, feeding her, and giving her a bed at night.

Blue is blessed to be the property of our neighbors, but as far as she cares, she belongs to the mountain and everyone on it, just as the mountain and all of its creatures, including people, belong to her.