It has always been Dogs

it has always been dogs

As a child, she didn’t believe in best friends but teddy bears. And then one day she realized it was stupid to play with a stuffed toy.

Filled with dust and longing, in the attic, the teddy bear waited for her till rodents and ruthlessness consumed it.

In a long enough timeline, the best of friendships run dry.  Either I don’t know humans or I know them too well.  And every time I find dog fur on my blazer, the assurance resurfaces – sans gimmicks of all that’s said and sung in the name of companionship, tucked on the shoulder blade rests my own private totem that can never fade. For me, it has always been dogs.

Charles Bukowski - too many people
The drunken genius Charles Bukowski on the conundrum that is the crowd.

Often I think of Rail drivers who get up each morning to retrace the same path yet reach nowhere, sans joy of arrival or pain of leaving. Forever alone yet never lonely; sometimes I wish I could be them. Then I wonder if I already am.

Perhaps that’s the closest I can be with humans. A co-passenger in the journey called life, sharing an occasional laugh, an approving nod or a breathing space.

With age, you realize that the volume knob also turns left and there’s more to madness than men. These little self-discoveries happen in a subtle manner and when they do, dogs always make more sense.

Teddy bears don’t hug you back, dogs do.

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