My father, a nonconformist from his youth to his death, frequently used to say, “Everyone has their own reality.” Since his reality was augmented by his daily intake of a certain leafy herb, I used to take the grammar and the sentiment with a grain of salt. But the older I get, the more I appreciate what he meant – even without herbal assistance.
For example, sometimes when I see a dog trotting alongside a road in my rural part of northern California, I can tell that wandering is routine to that dog – he’s not lost, he hasn’t been abandoned; he’s out doing his usual rounds. Whereas the friend sitting in the passenger seat of my car, seeing the same dog, will probably say, “Stop! We should help that dog!” She sees him as in need of immediate assistance. We’re experiencing the same visual input, but our realities are completely different. Which one of us is right? Which one is seeing things the way they really are? (Well, sometimes it’s obvious that a dog is lost and in need of assistance, and I’ve rescued more than a few of them!)
There’s a similar effect at work when one of my dogs is curled up on top of a nest he’s made of all the throw pillows and blankets on my sofa. This vision will make me coo; I am happy that my dog looks so happy and comfortable. I see a secure, happy dog. The same sight will raise my husband’s blood pressure. He’ll likely roll his eyes and say, “Get off the couch! We’ve got dog beds in every room for that!” He sees a dog who is spoiled and opportunistic. (Full disclosure: My dogs are welcome on the couch, and they know that most of the time, they can ignore my husband’s directives. We have negotiated this agreement over the 25 years we’ve been married.)
Here’s another situation where the objective truth is hard to determine. Once many years ago, I had the opportunity to attend the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Whereas many people saw fabulously well cared-for dogs with fantastic shiny coats, I saw unhappy, stressed, shut-down dogs. The area where the dogs were kept and prepared for the show rings was so hot, loud, and crowded, I started feeling like I was going to have a panic attack. I left the show after just an hour or two and changed my flight home to that evening, instead of the next day as previously planned. I am still haunted by the overwhelming impression of hopeless resignation I had from the dogs I saw there.
What about the dogs who accompany unhoused people? Some might feel sorry for them, having to spend their lives wandering the streets, sleeping in rough situations, and subsisting on a diet of whatever their owners are eating. But others may see dogs who are seemingly completely content to be with their owners 24/7, unfazed by anything and everything happening in their environment. They get plenty of fresh air and exercise and tons of attention from their people; there are plenty of family dogs who aren’t so lucky!
Here’s a classic “different realities” scenario: I see my sister’s little dogs as fat – hideously obese, even. She sees them as happy!
In this case, at least, I think we both have a fairly good grasp on reality!
What canine encounter have you seen very differently from others around you?
