Moon Dogs

Moon Dogs

New York has millions of dogs, and they are all richer than I am. I am walking in the West Village (a ritzy part of Manhattan), and a poodle has a coat that costs more than my own. It is leather and has pockets (toughest poodle ever). These dogs live in posh apartments, eat balanced meals and have their own personal trainers (professional dog walkers).

Part of me thinks it is twisted and sad to spend thousands of dollars on an animal when other people are starving. Another part of me knows how much I love my dog, and then I get confused. What is it about dogs - or animals in general? People love watching them. If someone has a dog in the subway, everyone becomes happier. You can feel it. A couple of days ago, a woman had a dog in her handbag. It was a slobbering-type dog (the handbag will never be the same) but no one cared. Everyone was looking at the dog and smiling. A little girl pointed and giggled and a wall-street man babbled in "dog-talk" for a good ten seconds. The dog just sat there and drooled, but he owned the hearts of everyone on that subway car. He would make millions as a panhandler.

The woman got off at the next stop, and I sat there watching the car sink back into stillness. A few stops later, a homeless man entered the car and started asking for money. He was dirty, possibly drunk and had some spit on his beard, although less than the dog. Everyone, including me, sank into our seats hoping this man would pass by without confrontation.

It's a strange world. We humanize animals and animalize humans. I don't know why we often care more for animals (even strangers) than we do for humans, but often we do.

Why? I could make up a bunch of reasons, but I think one reason comes from an animal's ability to simply live. Acting is a perfect example. Someone once told me that it is dangerous to get on stage with an animal or with a child because they always steal the show. They do. A dog can lie on stage for 5 minutes doing nothing and the audience will be on the edge of their seats. An actor can say three words and the audience wants an intermission. Why? It's because children and dogs LIVE on stage. They are open and allow the world to happen to and around them. It's like watching someone look at a full moon on a clear night in the mountains. You can see the moon in the person's eyes, in their face, in their body. But if you ask someone to act like they are looking at the moon, many actors try to show the moon in their bodies. They aren't thinking about the moon; they are thinking about portraying the moon. The first person allows the moon to flow through him; the second forces his opinions on the moon and thereby sucks the truth and wonder out of it. As humans, we can sense false action/behavior, and we are repelled by it. Children have the ability to jump into the world through imagination and play and don't care what others think of them. Animals simply do what they want. Both parties live without walls of defense, trickery, opinions or fear. They are open to the world, and the rest of us are attracted by their openness. Humans yearn to watch people live, and many of us wish we had the faith to do the same.