(Illustration by Meg van Schaik)
Tonight, on the late shift of the village watch, the sky sagged above me in cushions of purple veil, stuck through with needles. A Tumbleweed lay sleeping at the flaking toes of my gate, waiting for the wind to whisper it home.
Behind me, in the back seat of my car, my dogs lay sleeping, their ears and foreheads lathered with mosquito repellant.
It was a cold night, and my windows were closed. Soon, the air inside was loafy with their booty-bombs, discharged at ever accelerating intervals.
The younger dog, Mila, was lying on her side, with her head hanging off the seat, shaped like a comma in a coma.
In between dishing up her baked air-biscuits, she began to yodel. Her front legs started to flap, and her haunches kicked out in recumbent flight.
And right there is the question we have all asked, or been asked, at some time in our lives. (Don’t tell me I need to spell it out for you?)
But it’s there, all the time, buried at different depths between us, like bones in the garden.
Consciousness. Sentience. Emotions. Awareness. Most of us agree we are not the only species on earth possessing more than simple physical form and function.
My dogs smile. They mourn. They sulk. They manipulate. All evidence of sentient ability. Consciousness.
But dreaming?
In the last weeks, Mila has become quite familiar with her first cat. She sticks her snout through the neighbour’s fence and the cat, Earlizabeth, comes to rub noses. Initial inter-species fear was soon replaced by jumpy joy and excitement as they greeted each other every day. (These are dog emotions I describe; I’m guessing the cat is more motivated by idle curiosity and judgment.)
Is this what your dreams are made of Mila?
Just then she let one go that woke them both up. (I’ve done that, so I’m not judging or anything.)
Pretty soon, it was shift end and time to pack it in.
Ahead of me, the two dogs trotted together back to the cottage, and were soon curled up around the big gas heater, sound asleep.
As I folded a blanket over her, I stroked Mila’s slightly pointy, bony head and wondered, “where will you run to tonight?”
Later that night, I woke up with a start and a sniff.
But when you sleep alone, there’s no point blaming the dogs.
hELLO