Hamilton Herald Masthead

Editorial


Front Page - Friday, November 12, 2010

Are we there yet?


Dogs, humans and machines



Sometimes, not being around people isn’t such a bad thing.
I had some of it last Saturday. But I wasn’t totally alone. Gus, the faithful, man’s best friend, Cairn terrier was with me. It was a good day for both of us. Gus loves car rides these days. It used to be walks, but now at age 10, which the dog experts tell us equates to 70 people years, he does better in the car than on the leash. But he doesn’t really know that, because given the choice he would most certainly still choose the walk; and I still take him, although on much shorter ones these days.
I asked Gus if he wanted to go for a ride and he got pretty excited, it doesn’t take much. “Want to go in the car Gussie?” He answered with a big grin and three twirls, which I knew meant that he did.
I had to go upstairs for my tennis shoes and he followed me to make sure I stayed on task. When he saw me putting on my shoes he gave me a few soft barks, which I’m pretty sure means “Hurry it up man.”
We got in the car and I rolled down the back windows so he could stick his head out. Wasn’t it Steven Wright who asked, “Why do dogs love sticking their heads out the window of a moving car but hate it when we blow in their face?”
(As I write this there is a lady on Larry King who has written a book called “Bats Sing, Mice Giggle: The Surprising Science of Animals’ Inner Lives.” In it are discoveries like – lizards that do push-ups to impress their mates, spiders that taste with their feet, a decapitated cockroach that can live for two weeks, a certain type of parrotfish that wraps itself in a sort of foul-smelling snot before taking a nap, and ants that play. I can’t wait to get a copy and read it to Gus.)
In Kroger, I went to the dried bean aisle with the intention to make some of Paul Prudhomme’s red beans and rice, which I’ve made many times. But then I spotted some Great Northern beans and decided on some ham and bean soup, just as tasty and much easier to create (not nearly as much chopping).
So I got everything I needed and remembered Gus, so I slid over to the dog food aisle for some “Little Bites.” I also picked him up a box of Milk Bones, for senior dogs over age seven. That would make his day and would make the bath that I was planning for him a little easier to take.
I got in the self-checkout, computer scanning, non-human line to pay, where things went smoothly until my computer, who was a girl, said, “Please remove the last item from the bagging area.” So I did. But that didn’t satisfy her and my screen froze.
The line behind me was growing and the next person in line, a woman with some Frosted Flakes, bananas and M&Ms, began moving into my space, as if crowding me would get me out of her way a little quicker. I tried scanning Gus’s Milk Bones, but my digital computer lady would have none of it.
Finally, a woman who I assumed was flesh and blood came over and pushed a bunch of numbers on my screen as well those on something she had that looked like the remote control from my den. The banana lady, who I’d had about enough of, crowded in closer.
The store human-lady be-gan giving me a self-checkout lesson, which wasn’t necessary because I use it all the time. “I use this all the time,” I told her. Behind me I heard banana lady snicker. Then some other people began moving away from my line to other scanners; the ultimate insult. But banana lady hung tough, not willing to lose her spot near my right hip.
Finally, my lesson over, I swiped my card and pressed the correct places on the screen. I was fast, trying to impress anyone looking that I knew what I was doing. Looking back, I should have been slower, like I am when someone tailgates me and I let up on the accelerator until I’m going 15. Mature, huh?
I grabbed my bags and heard a woman’s voice mumble, “Finally.” I knew it was the lady who was dying to get home to her empty cereal bowl. But rather than tell her what I thought I walked quickly out the door, to my waiting car and Cairn, thinking to myself that not being around some people isn’t such a bad thing at all.
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RIP Savannah Morley – she was a sweet and good dog.