229. Greyhounds - Crow Jonah Norlander
Getty Images/Barbara Brady-Smith
I’m an honest person. Most of the time, at least.
I’m an honest person. Most of the time, at least. The truth is good, but sometimes it’s inconvenient, awkward, or boring. Like when I’m out walking my greyhounds and tourists on their way to the beach stop me to ask, “Are those greyhounds?”
If I could sell a joke, I’d say, “They’re pugs—these are their Halloween costumes.” The tenth person to ask “Are they friendly?” might be surprised to hear about my dogs’ hallucinatory disorder that causes them to perceive petting hands as irresistibly delicious rabbits. “Chomp chomp,” I’d say, shrugging an insincere apology.
“Are they retired racers?” No! After all but two states voted to outlaw racing, I opened up my own black-market, off-track betting operation in the next county over, where I have hired goons ready to break the kneecaps of anyone who asks too many questions.
How could I possibly know that this particular canine admirer is on the board of PETA? That the very next day she will bring to bear the full force of their power barging down my front door?
Finding no illegal dog-racing activity, they nonetheless pass judgment: I take my dogs for granted and undermine their ability to brighten others’ days. Given the state of discretionary authority, oversight, and funding, I’m not sure what to expect. But it turns out that they think I’m worth saving. They want to rehabilitate me! They assign a caseworker to observe.
She arrives looking vaguely Montessori in her muumuu. Is that a stitched bunny emblem on the breast? Could that be a uniform? She’s calm, firm, and authoritative. She finishes sentences with a leading lilt but walks like she’s packing something. PETA doesn’t believe in guns, do they? I’m an animal too, I deserve to be treated ethically.
After gradually getting used to her being around, I revert to my usual ways. She watches me shoo the dogs away after a perfunctory pat. On a walk, she stops me: “Why so soon to tug their sweet snouts away from some luscious scent?” This hypothetical clinician might be overboard with the poetics, but she makes a good point. She has more to say. “Are you genuinely in a hurry? Or do you seek power and control in relationships as a means of overcompensating for an upbringing made precarious by poverty, addiction, and divorce?”
Wow, ok, easy now. But again, she’s not wrong.
“Do you begrudge these beautiful creatures their affection for and dependence upon you? A dynamic of your own design?” She has me imagine my life without dogs, and then a world in which gardeners guard their flowers and trees greedily absorb birdsong.
Point being: Blessings should be a delight to share.
Now they can’t shut me up. Everyone, look at my handsome dogs! Yes, they’re related!
And they’d absolutely love a rub.
- Crow Jonah Norlander
