The Wisdom of Strays… By Whitney Farmer – Un Pop Culture | @MDWorld

April 26, 2012 Whitney Farmer 7 Comments

Whitney runs a rock music venue on the beach in L.A.. She has an M.B.A, and thinks dogs are great…except when they are men.

Angel – who runs our BBQ station and could probably run the whole place by himself – found him while working his daytime security job in downtown L.A..

Skinny and maybe seven whole pounds, the mutt was still willing to protect me and my office where we hid him until the end of the show. On the other side of the wall, country music played – better than punk or metal, but you still found yourself worried about his delicate little shell ear canals. He didn’t seem to mind, and his tail wagged throughout the night even as he got sleepier. If someone came in, he barked until properly introduced. Our production manager went in without me during the show to get a bandage and said that the little guy growled at him when he got close to my desk.  But once met, everyone was well-met with him.  Two difficult meetings were mystically resolved because he gazed gently at the adversaries while in my arms, and they saw themselves in his brown eyes. At the end of the night, it took almost two hours later than usual to close out the business of the day because each person that needed to settle took longer. Each needed time to hold him and tell stories about their dog history, and make name suggestions.

I puppy-sat the next day, not too difficult because both of us slept until 3 p.m. after getting to bed at 7 a.m..  A few times, we would wake up, look at each other, and cuddle back under the covers while the birds divided up the bird seed in the feeder outside my window amongst themselves.

You wonder what a little soul like this has already endured. There seemed to be no hint of haunting wounds, except an initial cringe when you reached from above to pick him up. It was as if he would brace himself for a blow, then almost instantly realize that he was safe and begin to revel in the joy of being held.

How can anything be forgiving to the point of being forgetful? You look into brown eyes that look back into yours…Lots to learn here…

Remembering the crimes of the past and holding them against the new would have been a waste of energy, but it is a stand that some creatures take. Fearful or not, a sucker punch is by definition unexpected. And no amount of fear can provide ultimate protection. A life can be spent on fear, but the chances of getting close enough to get snuggled are reduced. And if a stray doesn’t get close enough, the stray remains a stray instead of being transformed into a rescue.

Teeth have been put there for a reason, and it’s wise to use them the right way.  If there is a payoff for sleeping in the gutters, it is in learning how to read people and traffic. It’s not smart to be a guard dog who is unwilling to stand down once the fundamental questions are answered. Someone who gives you meat might not be a friend. Noses need eyes and ears to be wise.

It’s smart to decide where the borders of our home territory begin and end. It’s wise to let everyone know when they come into our domain that they can come in only with permission. Plus, only let in the good ones. Once in, welcomes are best if they are extravagant. The teeth that bite can also be used to play.

Even if we are a purebred, sometimes the seven pounds that we are might end up wandering the streets. We may end up squished, or hiding, or viscous from fear. Or we could end up becoming the best of breeds, the mongrel underdog who everyone roots for with a story everyone wants to know.  Flea-bitten, but happy enough from rescue love and a backstory that it doesn’t matter.

It can be a blessing to be tossed by the wind, becoming a stray, becoming diaspora.  The useless and weightless chaff blows away, leaving seed that cradles potential. When it falls again to the ground, it can find soil with enough room to grow. Roots which would have been bound by the small space of a former situation can now sink deep. Leaves which before would have fought for a glimpse of sunlight can now stretch wide and become more nourished and richly colored.  Finally, there is the potential of bearing fruit which might have been impossible before. Within the fruit is the hope of becoming a new seed. And within the stray sleeps the pure heart, even if it’s not in a purebred.

Then, his brown eyes looked away…. 

Quote of the Blog: See above excerpt from silent interview.

Photo courtesy of Angel’s cellphone.