With the Dark, comes Darkness

Battle not with monsters
lest ye become a monster
and if you gaze into the abyss
the abyss gazes into you.


Thai food was the meal for the evening, which meant traveling downtown to obtain the bag.

I was let out as so I might announce my presence on the street corner, which gave me time to look around and observe what happens in the dimly lit corners.

Two men were drinking out of brown paper bags. One could barely stand; the other moved and leaned against a car, watching The Woman and me as we did our business.

Three youths stood on the other side of the road, dressed entirely in black, the faces obscured by masks or hoods.

A woman pulled a cart filled with empty cans. The Car Man tossed his bag into her cart.

I returned to the car and continued to watch while The Woman went in to get our food. The Car Man and I made eye contact several times. It was not my turn to flinch.

He moved two cars closer to ours, only one car dividing between the two of us.

Several more people walked bundled down the street. One tall man entered the restaurant. The man who could not stand was now sitting against the window of the antique store. His bag appeared empty, like his friend's but the Cart Lady was long gone.

The Woman returns, and the Car Man moves away.

As we drive home, I notice that there are no cats, no squirrels. Only darkness and intermittent light. At the corner gas station, there are a group of people mingling outside but no one is buying gas. They have drinks in brown bags. They smoke cigarettes and laugh.



I Am Shiba. In the Darkness, No One Appears To Have Anywhere To Go.

My Fascinations with Sunday Mornings

This week was not what I expected. The Woman focused her time on her computer and cleaning the house. The weather was cold and windy. Our favorite paths, icy and slick. Both of us fell while trying to walk; once the two of us fell simultaneously becoming tangled in one another, each of us blaming the other for the tumble. So the walks have been short, safe, and mundane.

I have been bored this week.

But today, everything looked bright and cheery. The Woman decided that we could take a different walk to downtown, and mail a few letters. Nothing urgent, but at least it was something different. When I realized that we were taking a different path than our normal morning routine, I jumped for joy.

Sunday mornings are an interesting moment of Time. The squirrels are still out, being busy. There are plenty of birds seeking feeders and flying in between trees. We counted five cats sitting on their front porches, waiting to be let inside. There was one cat lying on the roof of his car, sunbathing, gently rolling and enjoying the beams hitting his belly. We could hear dogs barking from behind their fences, and saw one other dog being walked in an opposite direction from our own.

Smartly dressed neighbors getting into their cars while several others were returning home after having breakfast with their families elsewhere. There were no children playing, but the evidence of sleds, skateboards, and the lost mitten in the street suggests that the banshees had been released into the wilds recently.

But all throughout our walk, there was a sense of peace, of calmness, that comes with the early morning hours when the snow is still covering the lawns but the sidewalks are clear. Newspapers were still on front porches while some opened their doors to quickly grab their treasure, holding either a cup of coffee or the bathrobe. Each one waves to us in greeting; the neighborhood knows that we walk every morning, even Sunday mornings.

The Woman and The Man have their own routine. She does not awaken him nor make his coffee, allowing the hours to tick by while she enjoys the quiet of her kitchen. She reads her paper. She makes a breakfast and feeds me mine, usually including parts of hers.

And then we walk. Today was a good walk because for the first time in a week, I got to travel somewhere different and enjoy the smell of bacon permeating the street corners where both diners and households gather to bask in the glow of the morning. There is chatter and busyness, and then as we turn the corner, it returns to quiet and the sun glistening upon the snow.


I Am Shiba. I Do Not Like The Mundane, But I Enjoy Observing It.

Oh The Places We Go

The Woman is on vacation again which means that I am back at work being the ever vigilant, constant companion. It has been an interesting two weeks in that she has had to take several days off from work, one snow day came our way, and now we have an entire week to share each other's company. I have already spent a good part of the morning barking at the garbage trucks outside because their loud noises are interfering with her ability to concentrate and write.

When she has days off, two other things happen as well. First, she cooks, and that means, there are good meals which means that there are usually cheesy bowls for me to clean or soup juices on my food. This is a good thing. The other thing that happens is that she cleans, which is not so good because it means noise and disorder to my normal harmonious life.

For example, She had the audacity to move and clean my crate, and wash my blankets. Then she bathed me! To dry off completely, I had to rub my wet fur on the sides of the couch . . .

But the really nice thing about The Woman having time off, is that we travel places. I get to go to the Post Office, the Library (which has Squirrel Park right next to it), the Beer store, the Pet Store, and the Hardware Store. I have to sit in the car when she goes the the grocery store but she always let walk around first and assert my presence on their bushes. There is only one place that I am *not* **allowed** and that is her gym because the loud music and all those people moving around gets me a tad excited and it is just better that I stay home.

For some reason, they don't want a Shiba running around showing them to true meaning of exercise. Go figure.

People are always amazed as I fulfill my companion duties by accompanying The Woman into all these different places. I sit by her quietly as she does her business; I tolerate everyone commenting on how much I look like a fox; I let small children approach me. While there are times that individuals openly state that they are uncomfortable with my presence, never once have I been asked to leave or never come back. Generally, I am accepted without question as I present a calm dignified presence in what is otherwise a mundane experience.

Well, except for that gym incident but I had my reasons for getting excited. I really thought that the hula hoops were for me to play Tug Of War!

Not every Shiba wants to travel outside their home. I know several that have no desire to leave their established territory or are too overwelmed in public places. But I am a Shiba that enjoys going places and doing things, and this week holds much promise.


I Am Shiba. I Wouldn't Mind Seeing Japan If I Can Be Home In Time For Dinner.

The Misanthropic Shiba

One of the greatest Shiba sites has changed it's web address. Please note the change on the link to the left.

This particular line, in Bravewolf's new layout, gives me amusement:

"It still amazes me that a people reknowned for their discipline and fine etiquette produced a breed with the temperament of a prima donna."

I have discipline and fine etiquette. I merely chose to use it when I so desire. For example, I still haven't beaten up the Pekingese down the road yet, have I?


I Am Shiba. I Am Not A Prima Donna, But Rather A Drama Queen.

Freedom?

I am a typical Shiba. I am a little over sixteen inches tall, I weigh about 29 pounds, and I shed.

I also suffer from the Shiba condition known as "Selective Hearing."

The People find this mildly amusing. They can be somewhere in the house, and call my name. I will remain in my spot. My name can be called three, four, five times, and I will not answer. I am not something that can be summoned for your amusement.

Open the cheese drawer of the refrigerator, however, and I will be proudly sitting at your feet before you turn around.

Because I suffer from this well-known Shiba condition, I am not allowed off leash when The Woman and I take our daily constitutions. While I find this confining and frustrating when the squirrels are just so close, The Woman believes that it will keep me from injuring myself in the next county as I pursue squirrels from tree to tree.

So we were walking in the woods. Ahead of The Woman and I, was a man with two German Shepherds. Both dogs were loose and sniffing around the trail, moving back and forth. We kept a safe distance back although I did find them intriguing and I was concerned that they might damage my property, when we witnessed something rather disturbing.

The Man With The Shepherds started to call in his dogs. They did not respond, but rather continued to sniff and investigate. He proceeded to call them several more times, and they refused to respond. He then caught one of the dogs, and hit it on the head, calling it a bad dog. This happened several more times on the walk, before he finally yelled at both of them, and stated loudly, "okay you both have lost your freedom" and he immediately leashed the two girls.

Freedom? That is Freedom? To be yelled at and scolded for enjoying oneself in the woods? To be hit in the head when called? To be mauled when a response to a vocal command is not immediate?

We caught up to them about half way through the trail, where The Man With The Two Shepherds was sitting on a bench. The Woman greeted him, and continued to pass by when one Shepherd started to pull and bark at me. The Woman reminded me to be good, and continued walking when one of the Shepherds turned and attacked the other Shepherd, biting it so hard on the ear that it drew blood. The Man With The Two Shepherds started to hit and kicked the more aggressive Shepherd when The Woman and I noticed that the second Shepherd could not escape- she was leashed on a dual leash so as This Man was punishing the first Shepherd, the second was attached and being dragged along as well.

The Woman at this point yelled to This Man, "Do you need any help?" which distracted him away from "his girls" as he called them later in conversation. They shared conversation for about five minutes, where This Man explained that he wants to give "his girls" their freedom, but they just don't come when they are called. The Woman listened and explained that she has excellent results being trained by a woman with a particular agency, and she could give him the name and number if he was interested. This Man stated that he would just return to using the shock collars; that seemed to work best with "his girls."

The whole time this conversation took place, "his girls" were looking at me like I was lunchmeat.

I was very relieved when The Woman ended the conversation and continued our walk. The whole time, she spoke softly to me, telling me that I was a good boy. As we got into the car, she gave me a big hug and again, reminded me what a good boy I was.

At home, The Woman told the Man what she saw and The Man also told me that I was a good boy. Both of them were very angry at this man. Me? I just feel sorry for "his girls." Even when I was destroying the bathmat or tried to take the present from under the Christmas Tree, I merely heard my name associated with a particular tone of voice, and I knew it was time to cease and desist. The harshest command I get is "Leave it!" and while I will never know the freedom of running loose in the woods, at least I don't worry about what will happen if I jump on the bed because I am excited or bark because I hear the neighbors playing basketball.

I know what Freedom is.



I Am Shiba. Freedom Is Not Living in Fear.