Lughnasa College Moon
Dogs. Vega clunks around, unable to navigate easily with the wide plastic e-collar (Elizabethan collar) attached to her neck. The e-collar keeps her from opening up the surgical repair of her cut, now stapled closed. It does not prevent, however, one of the other three from doing it for her, so we engage now in considered logistics as we move dogs from one room to another, always keeping Vega separate.
This is not a new situation for us, or for Vega.
Animals, be they cats or dogs, birds or fish, have special places in the homes of many people. It’s easy for an outsider, a non-pet lover, to wonder why. Pets, especially dogs, are expensive, time-consuming (we spent five hours with Vega yesterday), often messy and can make other life activities more difficult (think traveling, in particular).
What do they offer, these animals lodged somewhere between the wild and the domestic? Do they take the place of children? No. Do they take the place of friends? No. Are they vanity accessories? In some instances perhaps.
They are always life companions. No, they’re not children and mostly not even child substitutes. No, they are companions in their own animal way. Not a human friend, but, a canine or feline friend, under the particular terms of that sort of arrangement.
Each one comes with their own temperament, their idiosyncrasies, some breed determined, but most that same combination of genetics and experience that shape differences in humans. Rigel, Vega’s sister, on the first day at our house got her head stuck in the gate leading off from the deck. She wanted to see what was on its other side. I had to dismantle the gate. Her first day. Since then she and Vega have escaped numerous times, dug into the vegetable garden and the orchard and dug many deep holes.
On her own, though, Vega would do neither, escape or dig. Vega is a sweet follower outside. Inside she rules, outside she’s Rigel’s kid sister. Vega, on the other hand, finds thunder a non-event while Rigel goes back to her safe place by the garage door until the storm passes.
Celt, our first Irish Wolfhound, took a regal quality into his interactions with other humans. I.W.’s attract admirers. Their size and non-threatening demeanor encourage people to greet them. Celt took all this attention as merely acknowledging his special role n life. He would lie down, head up, paws crossed and allow people to pet him. When he was done, he got up.
Early on we thought Celt might like lure coursing, a racing event where sight hounds chase a lure around a course. When on the starting line, yellow vest with his number around his huge chest, Celt watched as the other dogs released yelping after the lure, turned and walked over to a donut stand. Much more interesting to him.
Each one Scot and Morgana, Tira and Tully, Sortia and Iris, Buck and Emma, Bridget and Kona, Hilo and Vega, Rigel and Gertie, Kepler and Simon brought their own unique personality to our home. It’s the ongoing relationship, the companionship that counts.
Dogs are pack animals, so we always try to have enough dogs to achieve some sort of pack. I imagine our true benefit from them is that we get to become part of the pack, too.
