Dogs
Catalogue of delights: 4
In Burlington you will find a dog waiting for you around every corner. Try to hide on Hyde Street and you will eventually be barked at by Foxy the coyote-looking dog. Pop into Kru Coffee and ten of them will be waiting in line with you for your daily drip. You cannot escape them when you’re out and about in the city wilds, and that is a good thing, a very good thing.
I want to thank the humans that accompany them for being the kind of people who are willing to raise a dog, or at least for letting me, a petless, heady person, be a beneficiary of their desire and capacity to care for something other than ourselves. These folks are the public servants of joy, even if sometimes they themselves are joyless. To these individuals I am sorry for not acknowledging this, the invisible pain you sometimes carry, but your dog is way too cute for me to notice. I am a sponge for vicarious delight and want to soak up every ounce of happiness produced by your four-legged fur baby. Most of you, though, seem pretty happy.
Today one ran up to me while I was sitting at my usual table with my usual thoughts at my usual coffee shop. He stared at me for a good few seconds, and in those seconds, I felt as if he could see straight through the armor I wear. The curls covering his eyes, his scrappy disposition, all of it was enough to bring me into a weightless reverie. My worries dissipated as the moment focused in on the singularity between us. When he returned to the side of his human to receive his daily treat, I remembered what can come of surrender.