To Be or Not to Be: Doggish

1 11 2013

When it comes to philosophy, dogs have it boiled down to four points. Like Bernini’s Four Rivers fountain in Piazza Navona, this wisdom flows into every dog.

Man would do well to ride its waters, as well…Image

These few noble constants by which all dogs live are inborn. Every dog shares them, be they domesticated, feral, or ridiculous as I like to think of the curs on the Pincio.

First, dogs never let their past define them, and neither do they take life seriously. Every day is a new day for a dog; a new, exciting, anything-is-possible day. Any human can see that all dogs enjoy the charm of novelty.Image

Second, a dog’s heart is easily won and difficult to break. And though pride may be the downfall of many creatures, understanding their own fallibility makes dogs loyal to even the worst sort of human being. As a result dogs have learned that it is a far braver thing to stay in a disagreeable situation, helping dispel the misery of man, than to leave it. That is the charge of man’s companion. Dogs value bravery above all else; its degree, the measure of every dog. It is the noblest of canine virtues.homeless_sleeping_dog

Third, dogs are philanthropists. They never pass up an opportunity to give. A pact was made in the early days of their ancestors. Hunting expertise for a share of man’s kill. That reciprocity continues today, but now lies in the pleasure and benefits exchanged between human and dog. It’s innate. An affectionate thresh, an endearing lick, a fond sniff about the crotch: these are all traded for room and board. One gets what one gives.4d6b1c7d73228.hires_t540

Finally, dogs never pass up the opportunity to have fun. It is the very heart of every living spirit; the essence of every dog. It encourages strong bonds and deep affection. If there is no pleasure, there is no life. This is the simple and abiding truth of existence.

 It all comes down to looking at life with a kind eye, no?





Snow Dogs

9 02 2012

The Roman snow is mere memory today, but memories are things that sometimes haunt. I smell more flakes on a breeze calling from mountains to the east. I think my Contessa knows it’s on the way, as well. I led the way as she carried heavy bags of critical supplies into our elevator: A new can of tennis balls, 3 special chew toys, a squeaky, fluffy imitation squirrel that smells like a polyester-clad tourist and a large bag of my favorite kibble (organic, duck and pea). These are the perks of a rare “snow-pocolypse”.

Another perk? Slipping our way across the thankfully level Piazza del Popolo and up the steep steps to the winter wonderland of the Pincio. Dogs romping and racing through snow until the ice between their toes begs them to stop; eating snowballs launched by laughing children (who, by the way, sound much like a pack of puppies) and making snow dogs.

 

I crafted three last Monday. Terriers, of course. Used my nose to push and pack and my artistic talent (mother’s side of the family) to sculpt the creatures. If we get more snow, I plan to do a series: Scotties, Rats and Russells.  It didn’t hurt that the Villa Borgese is nearby. Bernini has always been an inspiration.

Apollo and Daphne,

Pluto and Proserpina…

 

…Truth Unveiled by Time.

I was proud of my work. Tail held high and nose in the air all the way home. Alas, today, the work was merely memory under a fifty-degree clear sky and an icy puddle of H2O.

I suppose that I am a bit of a fraud. No Bernini here. Mere dog, save the fact that, though my creation had not the lasting effect of Bernini’s Truth Unveiled by Time, that is, in fact, exactly what happened.

Art mimics life as life mimics art, no?

Chow.





Neighbors

8 06 2009

There’s a new bitch next door.  She smells wonderful. Pink Poodle Cookies by Tri_Poodle

I sit on the terrace with my nose pointed in the easterly direction of her apartment.  She moves about her terrazzo taking no notice of me. 

But, in my mind, I am hot on her t(r)ail…so to speak.WS Sniffing Dog by Buckeye

I imagine a long walk wth her in the park.  A leisurly drink at the Bernini fountain; the sharing of a half-eaten cornetto under a cozy bush.  Then, the exciting saunter back to her apartment.

What will happen?  What should I do?

Dog Good Night

Chow.








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