There Are No Strays: Part I

It was gray, so gray the streetlights came on at noon. Rain pelted the windshield, and I followed the flickering red taillight of an armored car in front of me like a beacon. It was a cold day, the kind where it’d be perfect to huddle next to a hot cup of coffee and watch life go by from behind a window. But I couldn’t stop; I had a dog to meet.

Someone had called me about the husky because of my sled dog team. He was hunched down next to a SuperAmerica station, wet, shaking, skinny. He was friendly enough, and welcomed the attention of the hot-dog-toting clerk eagerly. He was red with light blue eyes, and taller than a standard male husky; he was gorgeous. I would eventually learn his name was Cyan.

Ivy, the founder of an animal rescue group I had been working with, told me “Do not search for his owner!" She barked emphatically through the phone, "If his owner cared about him, he wouldn’t be loose. I’ve never sought out an owner.”

But Cyan stayed with us for several days, frolicking with my own huskies. He wasn't a good eater, but had lots of energy and was in good spirits and got along well with everyone most of the time. He had several wounds on his back, I assumed from a pellet gun. People use strays for target practice often. As it happened, I did locate his owner, who did, in fact, have a “lost pet” ad out for him in the paper and on flyers around town. They were reunited and are doing well still.

Save a stray. The idea looks well-meaning on the surface. But, here’s the thing: if it weren’t for people, there wouldn’t be any strays.

Dogs evolved from wild canines: wolves, coyotes, dingos, foxes, etc. If left to their own devices, dogs would get along quite well in the world without us, despite what we'd like to believe. The idea of a “stray” is one that is subject to our definitions of it. It’s loaded with our grandiose notions of ourselves. "Stray" is a symbiotic relationship. There cannot be a “stray” without a symbiotic “person” on the other end. What seems like a stray might be an animal in a perfect state of harmony with its environment, even if that environment happens to be an urban ghetto. The notion of “stray” is solely dependent on us. By domesticating animals, we subject them to dependency.
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Coyote started showing up again in my suburban neighborhood a couple years ago, and initially people freaked out. A coyote reportedly killed someone's kitten, one attacked a hen.

But there is an order to the natural world that exists independent of us. Things are born; things die. Things hunt and kill other things. This is how it is. To intervene in the natural order of things is to play God. I have no interest in playing God, because frankly, nothing good ever comes from our attempts to intercept the scheme of things.

Things unfold as they should. They were set in motion long ago, long before us, and they'll go on long after us. We leave merely the tiniest impression on anything. We are but ants: at any moment, our tiny lives could end with the appathetic, insignificant step on our squashed heads.

To think that we can save anything or anyone from the perils of any other thing, i.e. stray animals, smoking, etc is a delusion of grandeur in the highest sense.

I just want to live and be as content as possible in the moment, where I am. Sometimes I have a difficult time doing that, but in hindsight, I have the most difficulty when I try to intervene. For example:

We woke this weekend camping to a wonderful rain: a steady but gentle rain pittering on the canvas rooftop. I lay in my new artic rated sleeping bag (which I had to strip half way through the night!) cozy and completely content. The kids slept in, and so we did too. My dog was curled up at my feet.

When it came time to break camp, I put on a sweatshirt, pulled my hair back, put on a hat, and went to work. There was no sense cursing the weather, because weather is indifferent. So I worked happily. Later, I would dry off. Later, I'd be warm.

Had I fought this, what would I have accomplished? Frustration, angst, misery. "To end suffering, end desire." Just be.

Today it rains still. And I am happy to feel it fall on my face. It is gray outside, but gray is just a color. I am going to run, and when I run, I don't think about the miles or my knees or how I can't go on: I just run. To think about it ruins it.