The rain has finally let up and the people who don’t have dogs to walk are out again. We all now engage in the social distancing dance, trying to predict speed and trajectory of others taking into consideration the wildcards among them - unleashed dogs, unsupervised children, or the delivery services. On top of that is the negotiation of the subtle yet disruptive changes in the environment - the narrow passageway through the unmanicured xeriscape of pointy succulents, the car in the drive way with taillights blinking, the still flooded gutters that cannot be easily crossed by pug.
Where once we’d stop and say hello, let the dogs meet, now we slow and sometime stop on approach. The greeting is awkward, our embarrassed and apologetic smiles go unseen behind our masks, and as much as we’d like to stop and chat like we used to, one of us will cross the street or change direction. Hopefully the dogs will remember that these are our friends despite the changes in our social interactions - hopefully we will too.
The masks add an additional layer of guilt and judgement. The masked glare at the unmasked, the unmasked roll their eyes back. I already feel guilty when I take out some trash out and see someone masked approach on the sidewalk - “I usually wear a mask,” I want to say but already know they’ve judged me as reckless and uncaring.
I think the dogs also wonder about the changed social order which requires as much time for me to mask up and plug my earbuds in my phone as it does to get their leash and harness on - not sure if they feel a sorry kinship with my new routine, or are just resentful of the fact that it now takes longer to get from their walk to dinner. They probably wonder what I did to have to be muzzled in public. For now they’re happy that I’m home to spend more time with them, and that they don’t have to walk in the rain.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment