In Honor of Alice
On walk the other day in a park in Oshkosh, I noticed a little robin. The robin was eyeing a stash of pine needles. Like most birds, this robin did a quick head jerk from one side, to the other, and back again. Then, the bird snatched up the needles. Looked again. Did a 180 in one bird like hop. Checked again. Hopped forward once. Scanned again. Hopped forward twice. Looked one last time, and then hopped into a tree.
This very intentional moment lasted less than a minute, and I had to stop because this thought was permeating through my head: What do animals think about when they do that?
I'm sure some would argue that animals don't really think about anything, that all of that movement is just instinctual. But think about the above scenario with the following internal bird dialogue:
"It's a nice day out today...wait a minute...what's that...dry needles! This is the best. This stuff makes a nest hold together stronger than anything else. Fantastic. All right...anyone looking? No geese or anything. Got it. It's mine. All right...subtle moves back. Check for predators. A couple more feet. All good? Yep! All right time for some nest building."
People who are pet lovers know that this train of thought (from human about animal, not like actual animal thought) is pretty common. Pet lovers are pretty stoked about their animal. Some do small nice things for them, always bringing them a treat. Some make time for play and attention. And yes there are those of us who definately personify our pets.
For 14 formidable years of my life I was blessed to spend it with a beautiful golden retriever, irish setter, golden lab mix named Alice. She had golden red hair, with a long patch of white down her front, and slim patch of white down her nose (and this strange little bald spot of pink right at the top of her nose). Alice's eyes were the most phenomenal brown eyes. She show just enough white to cause her looks at you to be very human.
We got Alice when I was in 6th grade, which would turn out to be a tumultuous time in my life. Like some of our previous pets (dogs, hamsters, birds, fish) I didn't think I would get attached to Alice. My dad's dog, Daisy, a collie, passed when I was about three. I remember her. I remember that I cried about her once. But it was my dad who had a big connection with her. After that time any pet we had didn't last long for various reason.
Alice turned out to be pretty special.
As a young pup she captivated all of us with her sweetness. She was always nice and friendly. I remember picking her up for the kennel once when we went away for vacation. Many dogs came through the waiting room. When she did, the whole room lit up. She was rarely an ill behaved dog. But don't get me wrong, pets, like people, are not perfect...I could definitely share some more challenging stories about her.
I became closer to Alice my sophomore year of high school. Some of you have heard the fable tale of Krissy Fisher. Essentially, trying to figure out the craziness of your first crush is pretty intense. I used to take Alice for a walk every night, in order to process out my day. Also knowing that Krissy's family had dogs, and that they walked them often, I was hoping that I'd run into Krissy here or there. Didn't happen.
By the time my crush on Krissy had ended, I was so used to taking Alice for a walk, that I just kept it up. Her sad brown eyes at times also added to the effect of "how can I say no to her?" Walks were one thing. I soon became the one who typically changed her water, filled her bowl, and from time to time bought her treats. I remember when I came home from college after a couple of months...Alice was so excited she slightly wimpered as she saw me. I spent a good hour just brushing her and petting her before taking her for a walk.
Our pets know us. They know when we're sad and happy. I will never forget when I was pretty bumbed out I would be writing on the computer, trying to get my thoughts out. She'd walk in and put her snout on my lap and look up at me. At other fiendish times, when she tried to get my attention, she'd lay on her back, and let out a slight growl. Then she'd look up at me, paws up, tongue hanging out, almost as if she was smiling at me. The second I'd look at her, she'd wag her tail.
Today was Alice's birthday. Easy to remember since it's April Fool's day (no this post is not an april fool's joke) and at times Alice definitely did some foolish things (the battle with the skunk is one of my more favorite stories). Although she is currently in dog heaven, I am thankful for having had that connection with her. I give mad respect to anyone who's had a pet that has impacted them as positively as Alice did me.
So in honor of Alice, I say thank you to Sammy, Dukey, Duke, Missy I, Missy II, Duchess, Daisy, Kate, Max, Murphy, Cheyenne, Maddy, Sadie, Chloe, Elsie, Fenway, Scully, Mulder, The Cheat, and any pet that has been appreciated and loved. Happy birthday girl!
pb
This very intentional moment lasted less than a minute, and I had to stop because this thought was permeating through my head: What do animals think about when they do that?
I'm sure some would argue that animals don't really think about anything, that all of that movement is just instinctual. But think about the above scenario with the following internal bird dialogue:
"It's a nice day out today...wait a minute...what's that...dry needles! This is the best. This stuff makes a nest hold together stronger than anything else. Fantastic. All right...anyone looking? No geese or anything. Got it. It's mine. All right...subtle moves back. Check for predators. A couple more feet. All good? Yep! All right time for some nest building."
People who are pet lovers know that this train of thought (from human about animal, not like actual animal thought) is pretty common. Pet lovers are pretty stoked about their animal. Some do small nice things for them, always bringing them a treat. Some make time for play and attention. And yes there are those of us who definately personify our pets.
For 14 formidable years of my life I was blessed to spend it with a beautiful golden retriever, irish setter, golden lab mix named Alice. She had golden red hair, with a long patch of white down her front, and slim patch of white down her nose (and this strange little bald spot of pink right at the top of her nose). Alice's eyes were the most phenomenal brown eyes. She show just enough white to cause her looks at you to be very human.
We got Alice when I was in 6th grade, which would turn out to be a tumultuous time in my life. Like some of our previous pets (dogs, hamsters, birds, fish) I didn't think I would get attached to Alice. My dad's dog, Daisy, a collie, passed when I was about three. I remember her. I remember that I cried about her once. But it was my dad who had a big connection with her. After that time any pet we had didn't last long for various reason.
Alice turned out to be pretty special.
As a young pup she captivated all of us with her sweetness. She was always nice and friendly. I remember picking her up for the kennel once when we went away for vacation. Many dogs came through the waiting room. When she did, the whole room lit up. She was rarely an ill behaved dog. But don't get me wrong, pets, like people, are not perfect...I could definitely share some more challenging stories about her.
I became closer to Alice my sophomore year of high school. Some of you have heard the fable tale of Krissy Fisher. Essentially, trying to figure out the craziness of your first crush is pretty intense. I used to take Alice for a walk every night, in order to process out my day. Also knowing that Krissy's family had dogs, and that they walked them often, I was hoping that I'd run into Krissy here or there. Didn't happen.
By the time my crush on Krissy had ended, I was so used to taking Alice for a walk, that I just kept it up. Her sad brown eyes at times also added to the effect of "how can I say no to her?" Walks were one thing. I soon became the one who typically changed her water, filled her bowl, and from time to time bought her treats. I remember when I came home from college after a couple of months...Alice was so excited she slightly wimpered as she saw me. I spent a good hour just brushing her and petting her before taking her for a walk.
Our pets know us. They know when we're sad and happy. I will never forget when I was pretty bumbed out I would be writing on the computer, trying to get my thoughts out. She'd walk in and put her snout on my lap and look up at me. At other fiendish times, when she tried to get my attention, she'd lay on her back, and let out a slight growl. Then she'd look up at me, paws up, tongue hanging out, almost as if she was smiling at me. The second I'd look at her, she'd wag her tail.
Today was Alice's birthday. Easy to remember since it's April Fool's day (no this post is not an april fool's joke) and at times Alice definitely did some foolish things (the battle with the skunk is one of my more favorite stories). Although she is currently in dog heaven, I am thankful for having had that connection with her. I give mad respect to anyone who's had a pet that has impacted them as positively as Alice did me.
So in honor of Alice, I say thank you to Sammy, Dukey, Duke, Missy I, Missy II, Duchess, Daisy, Kate, Max, Murphy, Cheyenne, Maddy, Sadie, Chloe, Elsie, Fenway, Scully, Mulder, The Cheat, and any pet that has been appreciated and loved. Happy birthday girl!
pb
posted by Peter Brooks at 10:29 AM
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