When I was a child, every time we
went to the park and someone had a dog with them, I would want to pet it
understood very well how it worked. You politely ask the owner if you may pet
the dog. If they say yes, you stick your hand out and allow the dog to smell
it. If the dog approves, go ahead and pet it.
all owners were approving of their dogs being pet by a strange kid, and not all
dogs were friendly. But the majority of the dogs and owners I met approved, and
I always held those moments of making a (temporary) new friend in high regard.
In fact, there were several dogs that were recurring visitors to the park and I
had met on a regular basis, like Chip the wire-haired Dachshund, Hal the German
shepherd, and Fritz the golden retriever.
remember one cloudy summer day, we had the park to ourselves. I was spinning
around the soccer field to see how dizzy I could get before I fell to the
ground. I got up after the fourth or fifth time, and noticed an old woman
walking a large dog along a paved path in the distance.
hindsight, I’m not sure if the animal she had with her even was a dog. It was
very large, larger than any Saint Bernard or mastiff I had ever seen. It had
coarse black fur, a hunched back like a hyena, long thin legs with tan stripes,
tall pointed ears, and very long jaws. But back then, any large animal on a
leash was a dog, at least in my eyes.
ran to my parents and pointed to the big dog over there, asking them if I could
pet it. As soon as my dad saw the huge animal, his face turned cold. I could
see his hands shaking. Then he turned to me.
he said with a stern look. “Stay away from it.”
mom looked at Dad confused. As soon as she turned her head and saw the large
dog as well, though, she gained the same cold expression.
father’s right,” she said. “Don’t go near that dog.”
wondered why they said that. Usually they were perfectly fine with me petting
people’s dogs as long as the owner was alright with it and the dog was
friendly. What was it about that particular dog that made my parents so afraid
few weeks passed. One day, we were once again alone at the park. This time, it
was just me and my dad. I was playing in the sandbox when I suddenly heard a
creaky and scratchy voice calling me.
This is Willow. She is a wire-haired/ double dapple Dachshund. She is completely deaf, and blind in her blue (right) eye only. She loves chicken, stuffed animals, smelling the wind, and cuddling up to peoples butts!! (from @bakaguts)
That’s the problem with cutting down a tree. No one tells you how dangerous it might be. Sure they’ll warn you about falling branches, and staying out of the way while the job is being done, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how the tree you are about to cut down might be the only thing standing between you and something very bad. Maybe that’s the reason trees have been the object of worship throughout history. Could it be because they are extremely good at keeping things out of our world that we don’t want in it? Or it could be that it wasn’t the tree that was being worshiped, but rather whatever it was that the tree was keeping at bay?
Unfortunately for me, the reason our ancestors started worshiping trees in the first place is something that most of us have long forgotten. Until now.