“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library” – Jorge Luis Borges

That quote has also been translated with “Heaven” in place of “Paradise.” I’ve loved the quote before I heard it. Powerful and widespread is the idea that death will open up a wider perception, or a greater sensory experience. Along the way, I have hoped that “Heaven” will mean that I get to see the origin of the universe. Alternately, there have been times I really wanted the afterlife to mean a lot of really great sex with my choice of partners. Or, the hope that I get a birds-eye view to see what my friends and enemies say and do at the news of my demise has also seemed a fitting last wish. I believe our expectations for Heaven are always a little laughable and irrational.

Lately, though, I do have one concrete hope for what happens when I unite with the universal consciousness after I die — that’s to know what dogs are really thinking.

Play it: “Move It On Over” – Hank Williams

(The photo of Peri is from Olga, my new old lo-fi toy pinhole film camera)

Play this while watching: “Dog House Blues” – Bill Monroe

The adventures of Peri and Sophie at the dog park, gettin’ into all kinds of good clean trouble. Dont forget to hit the music playbutton too. Wish they could sync up. Thanks to Greg for coining the term “DPU”.

This morning I thought I would take the dog Peri on a little morning hike before the heat dropped into the Valley. We just adopted Peri three weeks ago, and I was looking forward to bringing her along on hikes. I picked a close-by trail that a lot of people take dogs on. It’s in a pretty rich Hollywood hills-type neighborhood. I thought it’s a nice easy hike that Peri would really enjoy.

That’s what I get for thinkin’.

On the first leg of the trail, we’re just getting started and Peri was zipping all over the place. Grass is so interesting.  Then another group with a dog went to pass us, so I stopped and tried to keep Peri polite. Peri, though, went totally bonkers. She growled and barked and jumped and growled a lot more and made a big fuss. Peri is the sweetest dog, but her growls sound murderous. And, one of the people with the dog made some comment about hating dogs that did that.  So Peri went even more nuts and somehow wriggled out of her pink escape-proof harness, eluded my lunging grab and took off back the other way. She ran twenty yards back towards the car, but that was just so she could get a good start. She stopped,  looked back at me, and ran towards me, but not right at me. I could see it was going to veer around me. She wanted to get past me to get to the dog further up the trail. She went left, I summoned my best soccer goalie training and dove left with full extension. I got nothing but air as Peri sped past.  I ground my elbow badly against a rock, but I had to begin the chase.  Peri ran over to the other dog and I worried there would be an incident — but Peri, now freed of her leash, was just in happy-mode. She sniffed the other dog for a second, and then took off a-runnin’. I started beatin’ feet — uphill — after good ol’ Peri. The other owners were laughing at me “How’d that happen? Ha ha! Guess ya gotta get runnin’.”  I love people.

So, off I went. Peri kept disappearing around the bend, then looking back to make sure I was chasing. On and on. I’m not lasting very long jogging, but for her it’s fun time! I don’t think she is anywhere near as fast as my brother’s dog Augie was when runnin’ loose in the old neighborhood, but she’s for sure a damn sight faster’n me. I had no chance of catching her if she didn’t want to be caught. I saw her go off down an alternate fork in the trail with much denser foliage. I knew it led about a mile down into a gated residential area. I took the fork, but saw no Peri anywhere in sight. I was happy that at least there would be fewer other dogs on this side-trail, but I didn’t know if Peri would decide the trail was boring and disappear into the untrackable brush.

I kept trotting down the trail, not seeing, just hoping. A couple minutes on, and Peri came bounding back down the trail at me. It was a narrower trail and she was tiring a little bit, so the chase was over. I got a-hold of her and we just sat down to talk it over for a little bit. I was shaking. My heart was still churning away and my hands were not sure.  Took me a couple tries to get the harness back on straight. I was bleeding all over the place from my elbow. Some bikers came by and asked if I’ve seen their buddies. Nope.  They asked me if I am coming up or going down. But, they’re a little mixed up about which way is “back” on this dog-leg trail. I think I just confused ‘em more. Peri doesn’t care about people, or bikes for that matter. She was being patient and polite while I sat in the weeds looking like I stabbed somebody. I noticed I bled all over her paw. “That doesn’t look good,” I thought.   Finally I got her tightened up. I just sat there and I talked to her kindly in the silence. Finally, we headed back to the car. “We’re done with this place for today,” I tell her.

But, the Sunday morning had risen into rush hour on the trail by that point, and every other group coming up while we were headed down had two or three dogs with them. Every dog Peri sensed drove her crazy. If I saw a dog coming, I sat down on the ground with Peri and hugged on to her tight as she growled like a vicious killer and writhed and whined. I was by that time bloody on my shorts and shirt. These affluent dog-walkers must’ve imagined we’d breakfasted on a few puppies and were considering our brunch options.  I think Peri growls at the leash, not at the other dogs — but they didn’t know that.  There were at least five dog parties on the way back to the car. Each time, I was sure Peri would get loose again. I wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t turn her jaws on me.  I couldn’t keep her at all calm, but I kept a hold and tried to be a dog whisperer. She wasn’t paying me any mind. But after each interesting doggie went on past, she became the same old goofy Peri, sniffing at grass, happy to be alive.

When we reached the parking lot, I was genuinely stunned at the lack of a K-9 SWAT team reception. I was sure somebody was going to call the authorities on us two misfits.  Once I got Peri safely secured on the car, I washed out my gashed elbow with some water. And, we went home.

She’s sleeping happily now. I’m all neosporined and gauzed.  I think we’ll watch the Phillies game.

Introducing our newest family member, Peri. Is she a German shepherd mixed with Australian shepherd? That’s one theory. She’s probably two years old. We adopted her from “da pound.”

Plus, she doesn’t hate cameras! How psyched am I? More pics of her in my Flickr stream.

If you’d like to hang out with somebody this cool too, check out
http://www.laanimalservices.com/