On Returning from a Walk

This is my family dog, Molly. She is, as she is frequently assured, a Good Dog.  At this moment in time, she has just returned from a lengthy walk. As best I can tell, she is pleased. She sniffed several leaves, assorted bushes, and spots on the parking lot, and used the bathroom. Now she is heading home, back to her people.

In some ways, I envy what Molly’s life is like. She plays with her squeaky toys, chases squirrels, barks at the garbageman, whom she suspects in an invasion on her territory. She has no idea of serious world events. She does not know that 95 people were killed in a bombing in Ankara, Turkey last Saturday, during a peace rally. She has no conception of evil, no idea of what human beings can do to each other. The worst thing that can happen in her world is that one of her people might go away. Otherwise, she is at peace.

She also doesn’t understand about politics. Molly has absolutely no interest whatever in who the next Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives might be. She doesn’t know the words synod, or intercontinental ballistic missile, or Nobel Prize in Literature. The words she does know are one-syllable words like walk, toy, and food. Her entertainment consists of a squeaky plastic dolphin, or a stuffed frog. I could talk to her all day about the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or my current rewatch of Frasier, but Molly would just wonder why I haven’t tossed a ball for her to catch yet.

I realize it’s a good thing, on the whole, that we humans are endowed with a broader conception of the world. We have to do adult things, care about our society. Those broader things do matter, and even might affect Molly’s world, though she doesn’t know it. Still, sometimes, I wish I could share in Molly’s bliss. She is, after all, a Very Good Dog.