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Phantoms

Page 12

by Jack Cady

And when this happens, you can injure someone. Humans have extremely slow reflexes. Their ability to dodge and weave is mostly intellectual. Puppies will need to temper their actions if not their affections. With other dogs, of course, a puppy may bounce at will.

  eating: The inhaling of food is simply not done. We are not wolves, after all.

  picnics: differ from normal eating situations. In order to communicate one should adopt an orphaned look. Concentrate on sorrow. Think of all the balls you have lost, and of the taunting of cats. Think of how you have forgotten the sites of buried bones. As your gaze fills with limpid sorrow your humans will beg you to join them. When you accept the choicer portions of the scraps, your humans will feel ever so much better.

  licking: Nothing is sweeter than a puppy lick, and all dogs know this, as do many humans. Be discreet around humans, however, as some of them are insensitive. It is probably wise to avoid any creature that does not love a good lick.

  grocery bags: Almost always contain something of interest to the young dog. Perfectly sound practice dictates that one may dance beside the person who carries such a bag. Nipping at the bag, or attempting to jump inside, betrays a lack of dignity. Until the age of one year, drooling is marginally acceptable.

  baths: please humans so much that they wish to share the experience with you. This may involve tubs or buckets or hoses; all aimed at your enjoyment, but generally unpleasant. Humans hold the farfetched idea that the young dog wishes to be rid of his wonderfully natural smells.

  It is only courteous to join in their game because they, as we, should daily experience the joys of play.

  One should jump right in. Do not shilly-shally in the shallows or dilly-dally in the shadows. Immerse yourself with pretended enthusiasm and splash like the veriest trout. When sudsing occurs remain passive but alert for the precise moment when fingers massage your backbone. At that point give a jolly, jolly shake—a very large shake—then turn and give your human’s nose a lovely lick. If they are acute, they will come to realize that two can play this game.

  toilet bowls: are attractive hazards that will fool the inexperienced youngster. The cultured dog regards the bowl as an emergency water supply reserved for occasions of need. On the other paw, uncultured but pretentious dogs will chatter endlessly about the qualities of bowl water. A good rule is to listen for expressions of veneer-thin sophistication. If the young dog hears such statements as: ". . . chilled natural water replenished several times daily", or "A truly regal bouquet, carrying full-bodied aroma and a bold nose that makes a strong statement," it is well to avoid the speaker whose company will prove too fast, and who obviously associates with very odd companions.

  elimination protocols: If humans understood the glories of nature they would surely stop hiding in small rooms during the performance of desirable functions. The puppy will soon discover that his or her human is almost unreasonably obsessed with a desire to be discreet in these matters. An honest dog cannot really offer understanding, but any courteous dog can offer aid. In a spirit of charity, and when walking with a human, avoid deposits in:

  The doorways of banks.

  Crosswalks, when walking with the light and in front of stopped motorists; and even more so when jaywalking.

  Tennis courts.

  Lawn parties.

  Ornamental fountains.

  Before mailboxes.

  Play fields, and

  In front of Police Stations.

  Marking territory: Inexperience usually betrays the young male who has not been advised that there is need for precise and definitive movement. As the dog grows, and the lifting of the leg is required, the careless youngster will stand slightly skewed and will bear the disgrace of sporting a very damp foot.

  Tall grass is not only a comfort, but should be sought out of consideration for your human.

  cows: The chasing of cattle is a lowbrow characteristic displayed by the uneducated dog. It is, however, perfectly acceptable (and also rather grand) to frolic with horses.

  company: No matter how well you have trained your humans, the training will sometimes slip. They will become fanciful or flighty and not pay enough attention to you.

  Wait until they bring strangers home for dinner. Behave as if you adore the strangers. This will get your humans’ attention and they will take you seriously. If you begin to hear such statements as, "I’d like to take this furry little thing home with me," you’ve probably overdone it, so be careful and beat a hasty retreat. After your humans have chased the strangers away you will be rewarded. I prefer steak and kidney pie.

  to chew or not to chew, that is the mastication: As all puppies know, you always eat the thing you love, the thing you shouldn’t eat . . . etc. Thus the question has as much to do with love as it does with chewing. The careful parent will point out that furniture is not really lovable, and that there is a difference between squeaky toys and the human toe.

  Why Mirrors Have No Scent

  We all recall our first encounter with a mirror, and recall the combination of uncertainty and thrill that shivered down our spines and even to the tips of our tails when we met a dog who gave no scent. Canine lore holds a number of possible explanations, and those explanations range from rational to mystical. No one denies that smell-less dogs exist, but there is as much disagreement about how they exist as there is disagreement over some of the mysteries of humans; as, for example: why does a human choose to talk to himself by holding a piece of plastic to his ear, after the plastic has made a disagreeable ringing sound?

  Or, for that matter, why does a human sit before a box of moving pictures that talks to him? Some canine thinkers claim that the box is actually alive. Others, and this seems more likely, claim that the box is the human’s substitute for a nose.

  The dog in the mirror, according to the more rational argument, is not a dog at all but is our alter egos displayed at their hopeful best, and the mirror itself is an as yet unexplained expression of natural and universal force, since cats, people (or at least parts of them), babies, and an occasional mouse are all viewed at some advantage from time to time.[5]

  If this theory proves true we are certain to discover that the world, already complicated with a virtuosity of smells, is far more complex than anyone has ever before imagined. We will have to accept the idea of the existence of a world within a world. In fact, we may have to learn, as have humans, to operate equally well in a smell-less universe.

  The mystical answer serves many dogs, and it may well contain part or all of the truth. The legend goes as follows:

  In the beginning our forebears lived in caves, and life was crude, brutish, and short. These first ancestors lived in a twilight world, because the sun had not yet been discovered. For this reason the nights were always cold, and it was always night. The packs got together and appointed dogs to travel north, south, west, and east in an attempt to discover a land of warmth.

  The eastward bound dog was named Cosroe, later celebrated in primitive society as the Hound of Heaven. It was his lot to discover the sun, which, while attempting to rise, had gotten wedged between mountains. Cosroe set it free, and life forever changed.

  As the sun rose dogs began to cast shadows, and fear rose among some members of the species. One could not really play with a shadow, could not smell it, and shadows do follow one around. Some dogs, who declared themselves sons and daughters of the moon, or Moon Dogs, fled into mirrors where they were mainly free of shadows. The dog in the mirror is thus a descendant of our mutual ancestors, and is vaguely related. In matters of courtesy, such dogs are entitled to the same consideration given shirttail cousins. One may bounce before them, and even woof (for it may be that they hear), but any attempt at intimacy, or other social discourse, should be foregone.

  Balls, or Siren Song Sing-Along

  and Matters Concerning the Moon

  The first ball was invented in antiquity by the legendary Armbruster T. Licksmaster, a Cocker Spaniel and contemporary of Alexander the Great, although their po
litics differed. Licksmaster, himself an adventurer, understood that messages about the future lay in the past. Instead of studying prophecy he became engrossed in history.

  He saw, and clearly, that the wolfish ancestry of the soon-to-be modern dog sent a message that, if translated, would change the lives of dogs forever. Licksmaster was especially taken by the ancients’ fascination with the moon. After years of study he could still not say whether that fascination rose from moonlight, or from the positions of the moon in the sky, or from some combination of moon and clouds.

  As age came over him he experienced despair, for indeed he had spent a lifetime on what seemed a fruitless task. As so often happens in the history of great discoveries, the intuitive moment occurred when least expected.

  He embarked on a trip through the Greek Isles, retracing the steps of the famed Odysseus. His vessel touched the eastern end of Crete which in those days was still covered with trees. It was through the silvering branches and leaves of an olive Olea Europa that the great realization struck.

  It was not as he had supposed, the illumination; and it was not the position in the sky. Licksmaster—and how often had he felt sorrow at the waning of the moon and joy at its full return—how often, in fact, had the very essence of his being leaped forth during the fullness of the moon—Licksmaster realized that all along it had been the shape. The roundness, the completeness now stood among the branches of the olive as Licksmaster, in one rare, intuitive leap of genius, understood that what was two-dimensional in the sky could be three-dimensional on earth.

  . . . and all of nature had been trying to tell him this, the roundness of rolling stones, the curling of leaves . . . he immediately canceled his trip and returned to his study. The rest is the stuff of legend.

  Today we have as many different types of balls as there are types of dogs to chase them, and we even have balls for our humans. We have balls that bounce and balls that squish. We have furry tennis balls, smooth soccer balls, and the textured surfaces of basketballs.

  With these balls a mythology has risen. As with any great idea, there will always be those who hope to make a reputation by interpreting (in their words) what the inventor ‘meant.’

  One cult of dogs (fortunately small) holds that balls are alive, and that balls have rights, and that any dog who chews a ball to excess should expect to be hauled into court.

  Another group believes that the ball, while not alive, does serve as home for living creatures in much the way that the Mexican jumping bean harbors insects.

  In addition, there are mystics who believe that balloons are the disembodied spirits of balls, and those spirits return to earth for brief periods when they either pop, or sail away into blue sky. There are, of course, various interpretations of the messages those spirits are supposed to bring.

  My own educated feelings (for I have no small experience with balls) is that life can exist in a ball when the ball combines with a dog and a human. This is not mystical. The otherwise dormant ball actually comes to life, and is both plaything and companion.

  The point of this in a book of etiquette is, obviously, an explanation of correct reactions to the moon. Your reaction is an atavistic trait, and it exists among dogs in the same way that singing exists among humans. Any dog may howl and any human may sing, but only those who hold atavistic talents are worth hearing. It is wise to sternly evaluate your own howl, and unless it has a touch of genius, use it only in remote areas where there is no one, except squirrels, to be annoyed.

  Approaches to the Ball

  The proper handling of a ball poses questions so complex that they can only be dealt with in a full-length work, and such is not possible here. A work does exist, however, in which philosophical matters are discussed, with special attention to metaphysics.[6] My own small contribution consists in acknowledging major categories and approaches to them.

  there is only one general principle: Does the ball enjoy the play? I have known many that do. They leap joyfully to me, and in my mouth give a satisfied squish as they express delight. This, dear friends, is a happy ball. It bounces, therefore it is.

  baseballs: are exceptionally enthusiastic, and rather more firm of spirit than one might desire. Do not catch them on the fly.

  tennis balls: emit a lovely, swishy sound when they are happy, and tennis balls, like daffodils, are always happy. They are best chased on closely mown grass or on baseball infields. These venues yield the highest bounces.

  soccer balls: should be awkward but are not. The rule is to play them at a distance, because in their enthusiasm they may bruise your nose. Once you have picked one off, however, you may with nose and paw soccer it right back to your kicker.

  the frisbee: is not a flat ball, although some frisbees make claim to aristocratic origins. They are actually instruments of flight and not for the inexperienced. Whereas a ball is predictably dependable, a frisbee is a creature of the wind. I advise a course in aerodynamics.

  basketballs & footballs: are either too large or too clumsy for a clean retrieval. They are delightful companions, though, when one merely wishes to tumble about.

  volleyballs: are first cousins to Soccer Balls. Difficult to say which is nicer.

  rubber balls: these cover such a wide range that one must become intimate with each individual ball. Taste it, test it, measure the bounce. If you pay close and respectful attention the ball will tell you what it wants.

  snowballs: Challenging questions rise regarding the nature of snowballs. All we can say is that their nature is transient, and sometimes wispy. They flee before us and are gone, like the passage of mayflies, or the disappearance of hares into tall grass. Always treat them kindly for they are not long among us.

  softballs: are the royalty of balls. They are heavy enough for distance, small enough to make a nice mouthful, and yet light enough for a graceful retrieval. I once met a highly spiritual Weimaraner named Gertrude B(ertha) Schmidt. She owned a great reputation as a mystic, and was a proponent of reincarnation. We will, according to her, enter onto the highest state of being only on that happy day when we are reincarnated as softballs.

  A Word Concerning Squirrels

  Perhaps the most distasteful and distressing sight it has been my share to witness occurred one sunny autumn day among the grasses and trees of a lovely park. My male human, Rags, and I returned from a rousing game of fetch. We were both in fine fettle. A lovely hillock rose beside us, and on the rim of this hill suddenly appeared a handsome Samoyed, who, I am sorry to report, turned out to be a rather giddy fellow. All would have gone well, no doubt, had it not been the season when squirrels come to ground.

  An enormous tree stood at the bottom of the hill, and halfway up the hill a squirrel foraged, tail a-flip. The Samoyed strolled down the hill, the squirrel tended up the hill, and it was clear the two would meet. Here was a fine opportunity for a display of civilized behavior on the part of the Samoyed. Nothing of that sort might, of course, be expected from the squirrel.

  I am grieved to report that no civilized behavior occurred. The squirrel, on seeing the Samoyed, immediately rose a foot in the air while reversing his field. It would be a fine thing to report that the squirrel actually called on his Maker, but the most that passed his lips was, "Oh, sweet . . ." and then he began cursing. He ran like a road thing for the huge tree at the bottom of the hill.

  The Samoyed had been thinking of other matters and was actually in a bit of a squat when he first observed the squirrel. He rose from the squat like a small jet exhausting a contrail of effluvia, tapped his heels together three times before he hit the ground, and enthusiastically turned into a flash of white as he pursued the loudly cursing squirrel.

  The squirrel reached the tree and dashed upward. The Samoyed, shortening the distance of his angle between hill and tree, leapt into the air with the lightness of witchery; until, of course, he missed the squirrel but captured a very large portion of the tree (the splat being the only impressive feature of the event).

  The Sam
oyed slowly slithered down the tree, shook his ringing head, and wandered off in search of safer game; moose or cougar. The squirrel sat on a branch and turned the blue sky a deeper dusky blue with those obscenities of which only the most depraved squirrel is capable. The fact that my human, Rags, had dropped his leash and leaned against another tree in a paroxysm of chuckles, did nothing to lighten a truly tasteless situation.

  The question now rises: what should the Samoyed have done, and why?

  Three courses of action were available:

  ignore the squirrel while concealing any natural aversions for rodents.

  woof once, but sharply, to alert the squirrel and thus avoid unseemly confrontation.

  trot in a wide circle. The squirrel will still be alerted, and confrontation avoided, but the squirrel will also be puzzled. If puzzlement causes him to mull on the meaning of life, then a good deed has been achieved.

  Why should confrontation be avoided?

  There can be no communion between souls so radically different as dogs (capable of noble thought and deed) and squirrels whose universe looms no larger than the next nut.

  One is only demeaned by association with low fellows. When a human named Mark Twain wrote of the bad language of bluejays, he might well have gone on and mentioned the truly original observations made by squirrels. Remember, when you lay down with squirrels you catch sleaze.

  And finally, it is awfully difficult to behave in a cultured manner during a day in which one has made an absolute fool of oneself. That Samoyed, we later learned, was last seen chasing his tail in the lobby of a Federal Building.

  In the Dubious Matter of Cats

  Every so often evolution has a bad day, a fact to which the feline, Felis Catus, or common housecat, is simple testament.

  Some dogs choose to befriend them. Unlike squirrels, cats are highly complex creatures who, in the manner of humans, are occasionally capable of utmost grace.[7] A creature who holds so much potential cannot be dismissed in the way one may dismiss bunnies.

 

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