For me, the worst part of COVID was closing my business. For some, including a few people I know, the worst part was an order of magnitude more awful: the death of a loved one. And for others, it was being sentenced to eighteen months of confinement with loved ones they merely wished would die.
The best part of COVID? There were a ton of positive things! Stimmy checks, student loan postponement, the normalization of work-from-home, less traffic and thereby lower emissions, and a boon to the heretofore-lagging sweatpant industry.
I really enjoyed one thing above all of those, namely because I live in a bougie part of an expensive metropolitan area. My favorite part of COVID was rent concessions. In a world where rent always goes up, ours did not for two years.
My dog, Lemmy, is obsessed with flies.
It’s beautiful these days in Northern Virginia, where Lemmy resides. To that end, I find myself working from our balcony and leaving the door open. I enjoy the fresh air. And the constant roar of Reagan National Airport reminds me of a simpler time when great winged beasts filled the skies with hellfire and fury. Sometimes, I simultaneously play the fife and lute to augment the ambiance. It isn’t easy, but that’s the level of authenticity I bring to imaginary scenarios.
Having the door open allows all creatures great and small to wander in and out as they please. Well, “all creatures” with either wings or access to the elevator.
“Is it just me, or is that really stupid?”
The lady gestured broadly toward the six adults chatting across the dog park. I had been thinking the same thing and found myself catapulted onto my feet like I’d been swept up at a tent revival. The open invitation compelled me to commiserate with my newly-found kindred spirit.
Minutes before, a little girl in that oblivious group’s “care” had met me at the gate. Her grabby little mitt thrust through the chain-link holes as she yelled “DOGGIE!” at my little buddy. I’ll give her credit; Lemmy is indeed a doggie. But he’s a very particular kind of doggie: the kind that doesn’t like children. Or little people. Or people with crutches or walkers. Or people who run, or seated people who then elect to stand up. Or men.
He makes a begrudging exception for me, mostly because I have treats. And I always share them with him.
Lemmy is a rescue dog. We don’t know much about his earliest experiences, as we adopted him when he was around one year old. We weren’t able to conceive a dog naturally, so it was our best option. Maybe check your privilege, okay?
Dogs have an innate sense of fairness, but there’s a catch. Or maybe a fetch, in this case.
Imagine you have two dogs. If you actually do have two dogs, you can skip that step. Everyone else, please follow instructions. For the sake of this exercise, we’ll call these doggos Pancho and Lefty.
Now, imagine you have two treats in your hands, and you tell the dogs to sit. They sit, and you give Lefty both treats. You don’t give Pancho anything. Continue reading