Dogs

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.

In Chimayo, the village in New Mexico that was my home before moving to West Texas, I never went for walks. Not even the two in three months that’s my current average. Many of the residents of Chimayo have an attitude towards dogs that can be summed up by ‘let them run loose, what’s the harm?’ The harm is dogs hit by passing cars and left at the side of the road. Dogs shot by ranchers to protect their cattle. Charging dogs beaten away with sticks.

Here in Marfa, things are a little different…mostly. I haven’t seen a dead dog by the side of the road, but a walk here does set up a chorus of dogs barking to announce you are approaching their territory-one dog barking sets off the next and the next and your idea of a peaceful walk gets a rude awakening. There’s one dog in particular, with big muscled shoulders and a bulldog’s face, and when I approach his domain, I pass to the other side of the street. Luckily for me, most of these dogs are sensibly fenced in and when I pass I practice being a calm yet assertive alpha male. Supposedly dogs respect this, but you couldn’t prove it by me. Maybe I’m just bad at the calm yet assertive schtick.