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Yesterday I was walking downtown when I saw two young women coming out of a trendy brewery. They were ahead of me walking at an extremely leisurely pace, both dressed in tight stonewashed jeans with decorated back pockets, short black boots, and white tops. Each was holding a leash to which a small dog was attached. The dogs were of the same breed, same size, and same colors. The women did not engage with the dogs. They were just holding on to the same length leashes as the two little dogs ran around sniffing things.
And
then, one of the little dogs lifted a hind leg and pissed on the wall of a
jewelry store. The woman holding on to the leash did not notice that the dog
stopped to mark the wall. The dog finished squirting his yellow fluid on the
grayish wall and resumed trotting behind the woman, leaving a meandering trail
of drops on the cement pavement. Then, as the women crossed the small plaza and
reached another storefront, which looked like an art gallery, again the dog lifted
his hind leg and pissed on the wall. And again, the leash holder did not notice
what her little dog was up to.
Although
I was by myself, I was left speechless. That dog nearly pissed on my foot, he
twice pissed on a wall, left a trail of drops on a pavement in front of
me, and his leash holder did not respond. She did not look at the dog once or try to pull him away from the
wall and get him near a tree or a bush. And I wondered, what is this supposed
to mean? How can these identically dressed women walking with these identically
looking dogs be unaware that the leashes they were holding have living, walking
things attached to them?
And
then it dawned on me. These dogs were just accessories for these women. A part
of the outfit. No different from the tight jeans or the short boots. Some
people accessorize their persona with jewelry; others with body piercing; some
with belts and purses and bows in their hair. And some people accessorize with
dogs. Especially little dogs.
The
fact that these dogs piss on walls and stop to sniff things, and look for stuff
left on the ground means nothing to people like these two women. The dogs are
there only as props. To make someone look pretty, or interesting, or
fashionable or God knows what. Because if a dog can piss on a wall and you
don’t even notice, then what is your role in this dog’s life except for holding
on to the leash?
The
more I look, the more I see dogs used as accessories, as props rather than companions
or protectors or little helpers. Some people would tell you otherwise, but the truth
is that dogs are becoming the new accessory.
The
other day, an advertisement popped up on my computer for yoga classes with dogs.
It announced “The latest
fitness trend which aims to help you bond with your pet.”
The
first thing that came to my mind when I saw that ad was that yoga already
demands a mountain of accessories: mats, straps, blocks, blankets, towels,
socks, you name it. And now, dogs, too? Are they going to be used as pillows to
support the neck or the knees, I wonder. Or as squishy weights?
And
what type of dogs make the ideal yoga accessory? Only small ones that you can
lift and balance on your shoulders? Or patient ones that can sit for an hour
and watch people twist themselves into strange shapes without barking or growling
at each other? Or well-behaved ones who know not to lick your face when you lie
down, or sniff your crotch when you contort your legs into lotus pose?
Then
I thought, “How do you bond with a dog during yoga, anyway?”
I
barely bond with myself at yoga class. I am not that flexible, I can’t do a
head stand, I can barely twist my back into the snake pose. When I notice a
thin young person who sits with a straight back in front of me without
slouching after a minute, or twists her body into all kinds of advanced poses, instead
of hating myself I transfer that self-loathing to her. She might be the nicest
person in town, but if she can do the one-legged inverted staff pose without
blinking while totally ignoring me, I will find it difficult to like her.
So
imagine if I were a dog without the social filters and fear of humiliation.
What
I am sure of is that the little dog in that ad is probably not the type that
would piss on you when you relax into downward dog pose, folding your body into
a triangle shape and letting your head hang down until every vertebrae in your
back sings in relief. That little white dog knows he’s being watched. He will
wait until you finish yoga class and as soon as you walk out, he will piss on
the wall of the studio, while you’re still under the influence of Om.
And
I would say: You should have seen it coming.
photo credit: Business Insider UK on facebook
