Oscar is leaving for Sunnydale Old Dog's Home today.  Actually, Jake can't take him to the North End, where he's moving with The Britney, so he's handing him off to his big brother for the time being.  So Oscar and I had our last walk this morning.

Oscar's a good old guy, even with the unfortunate poop fetish factored in (thus the absolute necessity of the retractable leash when walking in the Fens). 

It's the first time I've sort of had a dog since I adopted a mutt in college.  What was nice about it this time around was: it was canine-lite.  There were definite drawbacks — I would not have a big dog in the city — it's mostly torture for them — and I would definitely not want to live in close quarters with a long-hair breed like Goldens.  But along with their hairiness, they are delightful, uncomplicated, and full of love, like all the best pets and lovers*.

Speaking of the latter, I had Gabriel over yesterday afternoon.  We've recently rekindled a little romance we started up last summer.  I'm a pet person — usually an other-people's-pets person — and I'm pretty good with animals.  But I've had a couple of my guys over — my little Asian amuse-bouche and now Gabriel — who did not want to be poked and sniffed, by Oscar at least.  I respect that.  And I don't judge. 

But Gabriel doesn't just not like being poked, prodded, kneaded and nuzzled by pets, he doesn't like the idea of pets at all.  Not just the idea of having them in the city, which can be a legitimate gripe, but the idea of our presumption of "ownership" of them.  The sticking point seems to be their complete subjugation to their human masters. 

That's what you get when you're hanging out with a Harvard post doc in semiotics, I guess.

Pets are a fact of life, and I'm fine with them.  I mean, Christ, choose your battles.  In a world where there's human trafficking and child slavery, pampered pets should be the least of your worries. Pets that are well looked after are perfectly happy, I'm sure, if a little bored, and far from being slaves to their human masters, their masters are more than likely slaves to them.  I mean, otherwise we wouldn't need the Dog Whisperer, would we?

Dogs and humans have evolved together over millennia.  We may even owe our triumph over the Neanderthals to our canine companions. Sure, a lot of breeds have been overbred, and people who look at pets as nothing but fashion accessories probably shouldn't have pets at all (but again, people do the same with kids, with even more annoying results). 

But dogs and cats can actually be capital companions.  And they can teach us a lot about cross-species communication, respect, love and life in general.  And people who love their pets love them genuinely, and with a purity of heart impossible among a human cohort. 

But do their pets love them back? Or is it merely a matter of absolute dependency?  Most dogs are friends with whoever feeds them (unless they've been trained to sic strangers).  This offends some sensibilities, I understand — especially of those who have a more heroic standard of love.  

I don't trouble myself too much over all of that — all love begins and ends in Agape — and I don't need Oscar to love me for me.  If it takes treats to make you love me, then treats there shall be!  I wish all love was so easy.   It's not all that different with Gabriel, if you want to know the truth.  Just don't tell him that.

Anyway, happy trails my furry friend.  Fare thee well.
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*Not to confuse the two.