I Became a Fairly Simple Canine Consciousness

An unwitting participant in a dog-training regimen this morning, there I was, my nose to the pavement and going about my daily, when a stranger and her cocker spaniel decided to make me a bipedal version of a rambunctious doggie playdate.

They stood still in the middle of the street, waiting for me to approach without giving away their attention. The owner repeated her command for the poor dog to stay as I passed, and as I passed, I ordered myself not to make any eye contact. That’s unbelievable to me,

how in the time it took to round the corner I went from being a human humbly limping to work, to a dog with a desire for sniffing butts and running circles around others.

And I’d take offense if I thought it would help me reclaim a sense of the humanity I’ve lost. But cynical poet that I am, I don’t have much faith in me transcending my baser, more animal nature anymore.

Because in the 15 minutes it took to walk to work I became a fairly simple canine consciousness that only wanted to love, eat, poop and play, that only wanted the world to be reduced to a blur of black and white and sex, inside that commotion of impulse, a tiny picture of a once upon a time educational assistant keeping guard over a special needs student taking what, but a direction.