The Neighborhood Watch

Tags

animal, animals, bridge, canine, Charles Dickens, coyote, coyotes, Dickens, dog, dog blog, Edgar, elizabeth gaskell, fiction, FinderDog, fire hydrant, friend, friends, Gaskell, German Shepherd, human, Humphrey, hydrant, man, Mary Barton, Master Humphrey's Clock, meet, mystery, narrative, Nature, neighborhood, park, pet, photo, photography, photos, plan, puppy, quest, quotes, sniff, visit, woman

Friendless I can never be, for all [dog]kind are my kindred, and I am on ill terms with no one member of my great family.

-Charles Dickens, Master Humphrey’s Clock, courtesy of litquotes.com

While I endeavor to develop a suitable plan or to hear from Edgar–or both, I have decided that it cannot be ill to befriend additional local canines.  To this end, I’ve convinced Man and Woman to take me further afield, to other neighborhood parks to meet other dogs.

I am a most congenial animal and get along with every dog I should happen to meet, so long as she or he is largely free of character defects, as I am.  I do like to play with all the toys at once, so of course, friends of mine must take this into consideration and accept their roles in Nature’s hierarchy.  I am as I was made.  I do love to have other dogs chase me, and occasionally I meet a worthy opponent who can beat me to a ball when it is thrown or who can manage to relieve me of the ball once it is in my jaws.  At other times, I love for my canine companions to chase me and to strive to take the ball, even if they strive in vain.

But I ramble…

I only met a few dogs this morning, and do not have photographs to share, but I will keep a careful record of those I meet here, to aid my recollections when I speak to Edgar.  It may be that we can share our mission with worthy dogs who can help us to overcome the coyotes.

In that spirit:

I met a young pup who looked to me to be a beagle.  He was very friendly, though a bit intimidated by my size and noble bearing.  We sniffed one another quite politely, but were not able to engage in a very meaningful conversation.

Other dogs I hallooed from afar, including a charming Airedale Terrier and another German Shepherd, like myself.

The park was quite lovely.  I found many new scents and paused a moment to view the hydrant in the midst of the trees and clover–an object dear to human and canine set strangely in nature’s glorious flora.

Near the end of my stroll with Woman and Man, we stood for a moment on a bridge.  I looked out between the railings and mused once more on the strange combination of human industry and bucolic landscape which I could see before me.  Just so are humans and dogs combined, are they not?  Mostly, they can coexist quite peacefully, yet there is an important balance which must be maintained.

There are some fields near Manchester, well known to the inhabitants as “Green Heys Fields,” through which runs a public footpath to a little village about two miles distant. In spite of these fields being flat, and low, nay, in spite of the want of wood (the great and usual recommendation of level tracts of land), there is a charm about them which strikes even the inhabitant of a mountainous district, who sees and feels the effect of contrast in these commonplace but thoroughly rural fields, with the busy, bustling manufacturing town he left but half-an-hour ago. Here and there an old black and white farmhouse, with its rambling outbuildings, speaks of other times and other occupations than those which now absorb the population of the neighbourhood.

-Elizabeth Gaskell, Mary Barton

An Autumnal Outing

Tags

autumn, beach, dog, dog blog, Doyle, fall, frankenstein, German Shepherd, humor, impossible, leaves, man, mary shelley, orange boy, park, photography, photos, senses, Sherlock Holmes, things are not what they seem, woman

My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.

-Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

Today I went with Man and Woman to the park to observe the foliage, to smell what there was to smell, and to see what larks there were to be had.  There were many leaves all blown into piles in the park, and I sniffed through them.

I made my way to the top of a rise and looked out over the park, surveying the area for anything out of the ordinary.  There were many human children, playing and shouting, and some familiar canine faces from the neighborhood.  A few were unfamiliar.

Woman and I ran around and I leaped and pranced as I felt the simultaneous invigorating influences of the fall air, enticing smells, bright sunshine, and the rush of running rapidly over moist earth.

I rested for a time on one of the park benches, taking in the view once more.  I thought to myself, is Orange Boy enjoying a crisp autumn day like this one, somewhere in the world?  I sighed as I thought of my brother and made an effort, this time, to place my thoughts entirely in my surroundings instead of in the past.

We walked down to the beach, then, and I spent some small amount of time examining the washed-up objects which I found there.  I did so with a mild interest only until I encountered that scent which has so baffled and excited me in the recent past: my brother, Orange Boy had been here!  I was certain now, after having admitted to myself the possibility of his being truly alive and after having committed myself anew to the quest to find him, that this was my brother’s scent.  I dug a little way into the sand until I found a clam shell.  Did he mean to leave this for me?  What can it mean?

I returned to the rise where I had surveyed the park before, and looked once more for my errant sibling, but I could not find him.  I am growing ever more certain, however, that Orange Boy is somewhere near, that he is aware of my propinquity, and that he is now attempting to communicate with me.

Why, though, does he not come to meet me openly?  Is he being prevented?  Is he in danger?  As ever, new discoveries leave me with fresh questions.  What seems certain is that, despite the probability that my mother had disposed of my brother, he must be alive.  It is the only explanation for the signs which have lately appeared to me.

when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth

-Sherlock Holmes, in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign of Four