Another Day in Marfa

Before moving to Marfa I was determined to begin an exercise plan once here. Now, those who know me will appreciate that my implementation of said ‘exercise plan’ has so far involved two walks and one bicycle ride to and from the post office in a space of three months.

Anyway, the point of this story is not how little I exercise, or how much or how often I may fool myself into thinking I am exercising, when in fact I’m not (ah, the power of the human mind). Rather, it’s about dogs. And if you walk at all through small town neighborhoods, you know about dogs.

Don’t get me wrong. I love dogs, or maybe just some dogs, or maybe just the concept of dogs. Dogs are territorial. It’s all about perceived boundaries and perceived crossing of those boundaries. We keep dogs not only for the scratch behind the ears, the lick on the cheek, that devotional look in their eyes that makes us believe no one has ever loved us more than poochie; we also keep them to let us know our boundaries are being crossed.
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