I believe people--animals included--are getting more tactical these days. It's the pandemic push to our grey matter. Walking along the street you notice people doing the 'think ahead' concentration face of how best to avoid the approaching human. What way are they going? What way should I step? Should I say hello? Maybe a nod whilst holding my breath?
All of these thoughts rushing through our brains at once, we filter through them; selecting the best possible POA and execute. It's done seamlessly, but the reality of the bombarding thoughts can be seen in the eyes. Everything is about the eyes now. In them we recognize an urgency and a desperation. We're all back in Maths class, steam coming out of our ears, in need of acknowledgement, not admonishment.
On a game of human dodge/ walk to the shop, I saw a huge fluffy dog, with elements of St. Bernard crossed with sheepskin rug, exercise similar levels of tactical thinking whilst taking its owner for some air. It had stopped to sit down at the entrance to an off shoot road. She was cajoling, gently then firmly pulling its lead. It continued to sit and look at her, the fat around its collar rolling up like a Shakespearean ruff. Despite the fact that the dog was the size of a small horse, the sight was endearing. Bernard, the saint, knew it. As predicted, attempts at pulling the lead were soon ditched in favour of bended knees and arms open wide--a sure invitation for a hug. Bernard's fluffy pig tail began to wag, he had got what he was looking for. He trotted smugly into the envelop.
My own Jack Russell developed this particular tactic long before hugs had become rare currency--not that she suffers from this famine. She is small, wiry haired and lazy, viewing walks as a personal attack on her sense of self. At all possibilities she throws herself dramatically onto the ground rendering any attempts at 'walkies' thereafter to resemble an exercise of extreme animal cruelty as she is dragged along the ground like a sack of potatoes. Eventually, we will, as she predicts, throw up our arms in despair before scooping her up and carrying her. Only once she senses that we have turned for home will she concede to walking once more--tail wagging happily as if nothing had happened.
I reckon we all have something in common with these two coy canines: An urge for a hug--a huurge. When this is all over, if you see me suddenly flop to the ground with puppy dog eyes refusing to move, you'll know what I'm after.
xoxo gis a hug
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