My dog doesn’t know who the president is. He wouldn’t recognize that kind of authority, even if he did understand it. He barely recognizes mine.
Corgis are herding dogs, and they are always looking for purpose. He grabs at our sneakers when we try to leave the house without him, he places his toys in strategic bundles when playing catch, he rarely relinquishes rubber balls when they’ve been tossed across the backyard. His world exists on order and his world exists around him. We’re there to facilitate. We provide him with food, shelter, and a seemingly-endless supply of toys and puzzles that are advertised to be well-nigh-indestructible. He provides us with love and a particular kind of irascible attention and a pile of toys and puzzles that have been fully destructed.
For the past few weeks I’ve been taking him on longer walks than he’s used to. It’s good for him and it’s good for me. Much of life consists of sitting down and looking at screens and it’s easy to get sucked into that to the detriment of everything else. There has to be another activity placed on a schedule to make sure one isn’t simply watching or doomscrolling or endlessly answering emails. Usually I’ll join my dog as he romps in our backyard, but both of us need to go beyond our usual horizons. I never quite got used to how isolating the country can be. It’s easy to stay within one’s own fences.
He rushes ahead on his leash as soon as we’re past the front door. There’s a rush to smell all the smells of the neighborhood and to run wild. The dog wants to be free of the constraints of his domesticity despite the fact that nothing bad has ever happened to him and he lives a comparatively luxurious life. When he was a young pup he got out and made a bolt for it; I finally caught up with him near the woods a half-mile away, chasing him while still wearing my slippers. There’s a greater calm in him now, but not by much. The world is out there to explore and he’s going to explore it, leash and human be damned.
I remember when I had a similar enthusiasm, before the world was an endless stream of bad news and bills the latest sadness. Maybe it was always like this for those of us in middle age. Maybe it always felt as if the world was ending and that all our idols were dead and our enemies were in charge. For a moment I wonder what it was like for my parents raising me in the 80s. I wonder if they were as scared of nuclear war or the hole in the ozone layer or the price of gas as I am of whatever fresh hell appears on our social feeds day after day. Everything feels louder as we plod into an uncertain future.
This corgi doesn’t know a single thing about that. To him everything in front of him is of the gravest importance. I will let him snuffle his nose into every newly-fallen leaf pile but I hesitate when he attempts to sprint onto the neighbors’ lawns. People tend to keep to themselves around here. I have never met most of my neighbors, and the last thing I need to do is introduce myself while my furry torpedo of a pet attempts to assert himself on their property. I pull him away with a gentle “come on” as he attempts to leave his mark on a local mailbox.
At the end of the lane, on the other side of a “No Trespassing” fence, there’s a herd of deer minding their business. I expect my dog to lunge at them, to start barking at the top of his lungs to assert that they’re on his territory. Instead he sits of his own accord, watching these animals along with me until they jump away and back into the deep forest. For a moment we just were. We were along with these deer, unaware of the lives of men who assert their control over the world. Man, dog, and deer, still in the cold. Right here it doesn’t matter. Nothing bothers us until the deer decide to leave. A quick tug on the leash and we’re on our way again.
Back in our fenced-in yard I remove his leash and watch him sprint away towards one of his favorite spots. He puts himself up against the fence and extends to his maximum length as he sees another dog. This Labrador retriever walks down the lane twice a day, and my dog has decided there’s something crooked about him. He is my dog’s greatest concern. What could that retriever be up to? Why isn’t he retrieving? I understand, or at least I think I do. Humans have constant social media scrolls about the world’s richest man cheating at video games. Dogs have the other dogs in the neighborhood. I think they might have it better.
My dog doesn’t know who the president is. He rarely challenges me on political matters. Sometimes he growls and I growl back in a similar manner. I don’t know if we’re meeting in the middle. I worry that he doesn’t understand my accent. But we have each other and games of catch in the backyard and walks around the neighborhood. We don’t need much to comprehend that. A few tennis balls and a decent arm, a collar and a leash. I will do what I can for the world, as little as that is. But on this street we have each other, and I think we understand. A boy and his dog for certain in an uncertain future. He won’t ever understand the world of humans, but we’ll navigate the upcoming labyrinth together.