How I enjoy reading your posts. Its intimacy in the details. This morning, with my two rescue pups (now two years old) resting at my side I look at them knowing one day they will be elder. But for now, they have the instinct to chase and wander. A drive to protect. Run at an edge of out of control. Yet, they know to return home, to come to a place of care. This innate co-dependence of balance.
And this sentence, "I came to see how dogs are one of the ways we have trained wildness to mediate our interaction with the wild." What a pausing sort of statement.
As per usual, your writing evokes so many emotions, wonder and sadness among them. A now far-flung Austin native, I feel such poignancy in your descriptions of the urbanization of the wild edges of my hometown, which I once knew and loved well.
But this line stopped me cold: "the greatest gift our edgeland hounds gave us was to help us awaken the dormant wild within ourselves"
Perfect. True. Beautiful.
I miss my own hound who returned to the mystery last year. In all honesty, I haven't ventured into the woods since he left, and it is easy to see now that his companionship gave me the bluster that emboldened me to explore wild places. Thank you for reminding me of our relationship with our canine companions.
We took in a "street dog" from the "hood" in Houston's Sharpstown and brought her out to our suburban place last summer. She was pregnant and gave birth to 9 pups. We still have 3, and other family members have 3 more, the rest are with friends. The pups are some variation of Black Mouthed Cur but mama looks like a Stafordshire with a little Pit. She's very chill and sweet but an escape artist herself, also a capable hunter who can sniff out a rabbit den in minutes. Our previous dog was a little terrier who emerged from the woods one day at our friend's country place and decided it was time to live the easy life with humans. Great little guy but a little defensive at first with an incredibly loud bark that was honed to keep enemies at bay.
As I research a book about my grandfather (a trapper for a decade in the NWT from 1929-39, with his father) I've been reading books by and about other trappers to go with Grandpa's diaries and the interview I was prescient enough to do with him back in 1985. The stories about dogs abound, some of them amazing, some of them horrible. It's clear, though, that they played a vital role in the north helping keep people alive, and when someone went up without dogs chances were good things would not go well. Also, some dogs were trouble whenever caribou were in sight. Which - natural hunters - of course.
Amazing and I look forward to reading the book when you are done—I've seen much of the material you've shared (mostly photos) and it's really fascinating stuff. I can only imagine the essential role dogs played in helping folks get through the hard days.
What a fine column to finally read this afternoon after anticipating it all day here at work. I really like how the passage "who help us stay on top of the food chain and are rewarded with the benefits of staying there with us" transitions to the photo of dog with bloody jowls. Perfect! And, thanks for interesting links!
Wow, Chris! My favourite post in ages. I read it in the predawn hours in bed before a run still a little tired so emotionally a little more vulnerable and yup, the tears flowed. Smart and moving as always.
Beautiful essay. It somehow, without saying so explicitly, paints the liminal spaces that strays inhabit both physically and in their canid consciousness. And invites us into those spaces. Thank you.
Eloquent musings and insights into the world of dogs and our cohabitation with them on Earth. They live with us but they are not of us. They have their own ways. Fellow Earthlings creating their own world alongside us creating ours and theirs.
How I enjoy reading your posts. Its intimacy in the details. This morning, with my two rescue pups (now two years old) resting at my side I look at them knowing one day they will be elder. But for now, they have the instinct to chase and wander. A drive to protect. Run at an edge of out of control. Yet, they know to return home, to come to a place of care. This innate co-dependence of balance.
And this sentence, "I came to see how dogs are one of the ways we have trained wildness to mediate our interaction with the wild." What a pausing sort of statement.
Thank you so much! I really appreciate you reading, and am moved by your reaction to this piece. 🙏🐺
As per usual, your writing evokes so many emotions, wonder and sadness among them. A now far-flung Austin native, I feel such poignancy in your descriptions of the urbanization of the wild edges of my hometown, which I once knew and loved well.
But this line stopped me cold: "the greatest gift our edgeland hounds gave us was to help us awaken the dormant wild within ourselves"
Perfect. True. Beautiful.
I miss my own hound who returned to the mystery last year. In all honesty, I haven't ventured into the woods since he left, and it is easy to see now that his companionship gave me the bluster that emboldened me to explore wild places. Thank you for reminding me of our relationship with our canine companions.
Thank you so much, and I’m sorry about the loss of your hound 🐺
We took in a "street dog" from the "hood" in Houston's Sharpstown and brought her out to our suburban place last summer. She was pregnant and gave birth to 9 pups. We still have 3, and other family members have 3 more, the rest are with friends. The pups are some variation of Black Mouthed Cur but mama looks like a Stafordshire with a little Pit. She's very chill and sweet but an escape artist herself, also a capable hunter who can sniff out a rabbit den in minutes. Our previous dog was a little terrier who emerged from the woods one day at our friend's country place and decided it was time to live the easy life with humans. Great little guy but a little defensive at first with an incredibly loud bark that was honed to keep enemies at bay.
As I research a book about my grandfather (a trapper for a decade in the NWT from 1929-39, with his father) I've been reading books by and about other trappers to go with Grandpa's diaries and the interview I was prescient enough to do with him back in 1985. The stories about dogs abound, some of them amazing, some of them horrible. It's clear, though, that they played a vital role in the north helping keep people alive, and when someone went up without dogs chances were good things would not go well. Also, some dogs were trouble whenever caribou were in sight. Which - natural hunters - of course.
Amazing and I look forward to reading the book when you are done—I've seen much of the material you've shared (mostly photos) and it's really fascinating stuff. I can only imagine the essential role dogs played in helping folks get through the hard days.
What a fine column to finally read this afternoon after anticipating it all day here at work. I really like how the passage "who help us stay on top of the food chain and are rewarded with the benefits of staying there with us" transitions to the photo of dog with bloody jowls. Perfect! And, thanks for interesting links!
Thanks, Lee!
Wow, Chris! My favourite post in ages. I read it in the predawn hours in bed before a run still a little tired so emotionally a little more vulnerable and yup, the tears flowed. Smart and moving as always.
Thanks so much, Mat—I'm glad to hear the post moved you. 🙏
Beautiful essay. It somehow, without saying so explicitly, paints the liminal spaces that strays inhabit both physically and in their canid consciousness. And invites us into those spaces. Thank you.
Thank you so much, I'm very glad that came through for you. 🙏🐺
Eloquent musings and insights into the world of dogs and our cohabitation with them on Earth. They live with us but they are not of us. They have their own ways. Fellow Earthlings creating their own world alongside us creating ours and theirs.
Indeed! Thanks for reading 🙏