During this pandemic, I’ve noticed some oddities among animals. So I’ll start with our Golden Retriever, Nigel. Back in March and April, when dog parks were closed, we took him to a vacant lot every afternoon where he could run and chase Frisbees and balls. He didn’t seem to mind the absence of other dogs or people. But that’s normal for him. What wasn’t normal was how in the evenings he wanted one of us to sit outside with him and toss endless Frisbees and balls. It was when I wished we had young kids around who would play with him, engage him, make that fluffy tail whip back and forth 24/7.
I also noticed that Nigel seemed to become close friends with our cats, Nala and Beowulf. In the evenings when one or both of us sat outside in the front yard, tossing endless balls and Frisbees, the cats usually joined us. Sometimes, Nala pounced on Nigel’s ball and batted it away from her and Nigel would catch it. Beo often went up to Nigel and rubbed his head against Nigel, who responded with a butt sniff and a head bump with the cat.
Recently, we’ve been having trouble with mice, which were probably brought in by the cats and then escaped. The other day, the two of the mousetraps Rob had sent went off, I found a small snake – dead – in the living room, and a dove one of the cats had caught had gotten loose in the house. It had settled in a high nook in the living room that once had housed books.
We threw open the front doors, then tried to gently coax it out of that high spot toward the front door. Instead, the dove flew into the kitchen and ended up in a corner of the room, on the floor, utterly terrified. Nigel just watched the whole spectacle, apparently awed. The cats were outside. I finally scooped my hands under the dove and hurried outside with it.
Nigel followed me. I stood there in the sunlight, this beautiful little creature sitting unrestrained in my open hands, and we looked at each other. “Go,” I whispered.
It didn’t move. Those eyes remained locked on mine. Then I raised my hands higher and it suddenly took off, flying for the blue sky beyond our fence, and I thought, Go, go and keep going. And when I turned around, there was Nigel, watching the dove fly away.
I like to think he understood the importance of the moment, but perhaps he was only curious about why I was holding a bird. Or maybe he was captivated by the bird’s ability to fly. Or maybe he just enjoyed being outside. I don’t know.
We attribute human qualities to our beloved animal buddies, but perhaps the reality is stranger than we imagine. Suppose our animal buds are watching us? Suppose they’re asking who the hell we are?
