Hev, hev; guau, guau; wau wau; gav,
gav; wan wan; bau bau; blaf blaf; ouaf,ouaf; * That’s woof woof to
us English speakers. I was doing my
usual weekend walk-a-thon when I started thinking about dogs. Thinking about dogs in DC, even if you
haven’t got a dog of your own to think about, is pretty much ubiquitous. Because the dogs are. Ubiquitous. And because
I see art in everything, I am acutely aware of the role dogs play in the urban
streetscape. In his sociological treatise, The Presentation of Self in
Everyday Life, Erving Goffman talks about the “maintenance of front,” a
concept Italians call “bella figura.” DC
dogs take the art of self-presentation seriously. They trot, prance, lope,
wearing their scarves, bow ties, and headgear with a seriousness of mien and
aplomb that belies the somewhat unorthodox choices of apparel in which they
appear. Like the ID badges sported by
the seriously connected (read: everybody) dogs confer identity to their
owners/caregivers. Before our forced
isolation, our work and social lives were dog-linked. We saw them hang around WeWork offices. Judiciously partake of water and treats left
for them by fawning businesses. Patrol
happy hour hotspots. And confer upon
their owners the status so necessary for DC happiness. But now they have climbed up a few more steps
on the happiness ladder, into the sphere of wellness. We are all aware of the health benefits of
having a companion animal. Cats, guinea
pigs, rabbits, and even geese can lower blood pressure and cortisol levels and
increase dopamine and oxytocin. But just
now dogs are in the lead (as they prefer to be). The lockdown has increased loneliness,
anxiety, and the physical health risks that arise from stress and lack of
exercise. Dogs’ presence can ameliorate these
conditions in unique ways. People in
isolation suffer from touch deprivation, mitigated by petting a dog. And unlike the cat or the guinea pig (well,
maybe not the goose) dogs need to be walked.
Even if you have a garden with a convenient doggie door, they still need
to be walked. They need to be fed, (even
though some have mastered the “open the fridge, get me a beer” trick, they
still can’t pour the kibble into their bowls).
All of these needs provide their human companions with exercise and
structure, especially needed in these days of quarantine fog. Pet those pets and you will soon be vacuuming
the couch and throwing away all your black pants. A walk around the block becomes a marathon of
stopping and starting and sniffing and greeting other canines whose straining
on the leash creates a social distancing quandary. Throw a ball or a stick more than twice and
you find yourself enrolled in the doggie world series, with you as the pitcher
and extra innings on the board. And one
walk is never enough. That animal sits
by the door with the clear message, “hey, you are home, what else do you
have to do except take me out?” As the
oldest domesticated species, (the earliest undisputed dog, buried beside humans
over 14,000 years ago, was found near my
home town!) dogs have had plenty of time to develop the ability to
communicate with and understand us humans, meaning manipulate us into giving
them treats, of course. And how do they
do this? With a unique developmental
adaptation. They look at us. That gaze, that melting stare, that beseeching
eye, is irresistible at the best of times.
But now, as we live in a world of masks and social distancing and lack
of eye contact and fear of the other, that eye to eye gaze is comforting and healing
and oh so necessary. Next time you are
out, whether you have a dog of your own, or are just out for a walk, interact
with a dog, (properly caninely-distanced, of course). Dogs heal.
*translation: Turkish, Spanish, German,
Russian, Japanese, Italian, Dutch, French
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