Hope in Trying Times

As the human race continues on its inexorable journey toward complete batshit madness, I feel ever more justified in finding solace in the sole company of my dogs.

One of the most relaxing, reassuring places for me to be is on my bed, reading, while the dogs engage in their own madness around me.

Like every dog I've had, Marshal and the others are completely placid during the day when normal people are up and about, doing activities. 


















At night, when most of us want to unwind and relax, is when all hell breaks loose.  

Marshal is sweet, calm, and shy during the day, and a complete demon at night.

I am not sure if you've had the opportunity to watch the international cinematic masterpiece known as The Human Centipede. If you haven't, please don't. Marshal, Dahlia, and Fozzie's 3-way hump-fests provide all the preview you need. 

Marshal is so full of energy, so hyper, so incessantly annoying to the other dogs, he makes Dahlia look like a Zen master. 

Which puts me in mind of my first months with Dahlia, when she was humping and nipping and bouncing around and driving me and Fozzie and Florian out of our minds for five hours every evening, and I wondered if it would ever end. 

And look at her now!
















Come to think of it, Fozzie was no elder statesman at first either. It is hard to remember because now he is so mellow at home, so sleepy and affectionate and tolerant and loving--but even Fozzie was a disaster once. 

Just putting it in perspective like that makes me think what a fantastic dog Marshal will be. He already loves affection, loves people, is good with kids, and has a great attitude toward other dogs. Not an ounce of real aggression. He just happens to be in that unfortunate stage of development known as puppyhood, that makes him behave like a complete lunatic and make noises that sound like the soundtrack to a horror movie about ravaging mutant zombie werewolves. 

Unlike for humans, there's great hope for Marshal! 

If only it were a matter of a few months of development for us, too, to leave our ravaging mutant zombie selves behind and evolve into our calm, loving potential.

If I could send a foster dog to the people of Paris to somehow assuage the pain of what they've been through--fuck, if I could recruit young ISIS militants as dog foster parents to rehabilitate them, give them hope, and set them back on a path to sanity--I would do it.  But I fear our path to sanity as a species will be far more difficult. 

What do YOU do to stay hopeful in times of insanity?