being a pessimist is great i’m always either right or pleasantly surprised
I said this just the other day.
Reporter for the Pacific Daily News; meditating on the idea that the world can be improved through rightly directed human effort.
Naturally my stories are about women — I’m a woman. I don’t know what the term is for men who write mostly about men. I’m not always sure what is meant by “feminist.” In the beginning I used to say, well, of course I’m a feminist. But if it means that I follow a kind of feminist theory, or know anything about it, then I’m not. I think I’m a feminist as far as thinking that the experience of women is important. That is really the basis of feminism.
I know my dog’s not a baby, and she’s quick to remind me of it. Whenever I treat her like one, she inevitably gets this look in her eyes like, “Human, please do not supplant the anxiety of your ticking biological clock onto me because I’m adorable. I’m not a child. I’m a dog. I’ve given birth to litters. And I need someone to lead, not someone who’s going to speak to me in high-pitched sing-song tones.”
OK, I also know she’s not thinking that. But isn’t it safe to assume that she might be? Can’t I anthropomorphise just a little bit?
One thing she lets me do that I just can’t resist is blow raspberries on her belly. Anything belly shaped just calls for being loved, rubbed, cuddled and raspberried. Tell me that’s not true and I’ll call you a liar.
Apple and I have known each other for almost a year. It’ll be our first anniversary together in November. In that time, I’ve discovered that she hates rain and the ocean, but she loves dirt, grass and ice cubes. She doesn’t like toys that are simply things you can tug or throw… for her to be interested in a toy, it has to squeak.
I can’t imagine a life without this adorable, 30-pound, fuzzy, introspective, protective boonie dog. I don’t know what circumstances led her to a life digging through garbage (a habit she just can’t shake), hiding from the rain beneath cars (she loves the smell of car tires), with skin infections and an infection in her uterus, but I’m glad there was a family that found her and brought her to Guam Animals In Need where I met the little creature.
Today she discovered her reflection in a mirror that was left next to the trash bin we pass on our usual walk route. She couldn’t move, she was so confused and interested what she saw. She tried to look behind the mirror so she could find this other dog, but was amazed to find no one there.
She had this look of acceptance on her doggy face. Acceptance, perhaps, that the world is complex and weird and there are things about it she just won’t understand. And then she moved on to sniffing a pile of dirt.
I wonder if having a child is as fun as having this dog. If it’s not, then maybe I don’t need mommy-hood as much as I thought I did.