Hi, it’s me, Leia!
We apparently have a pandemic. In case you’re wondering, this is not the study of pandas - which kind of look like us, I’m told, and which I was rather excited to hear more about - so nowhere near as much fun as you might think.
Random Baby Panda Picture
Non-random picture of my brother, Spock.
For starters, things are being cancelled. Let’s be clear, I’m not part of the cancel culture. I give people and other OES the benefit of the doubt. Even when they - based on some clearly misguided notion that they are helping appropriately “shape my behavior” - refuse to give me the cookies they have in their pockets, while I’m climbing up their front side, and which I just know were meant for me, and not the well-behaved OES standing at their feet pretending they don’t know me (sorry, Una!)
At first glance, this cancelling may seem like a good thing for OES. Humans home more means more time for us. But an OES does not live for our owner’s adoration alone. We must mingle, we must be out in the general population, to truly receive our due. So we love our training classes, our therapy dog visits, our dog shows, our companion and performance trials and all that good stuff. We are sad when these are cancelled. We are. We can’t help it.
We want to be good citizens and keep our potential typhoid Mary owner home. But there is also a limit to how many times we can pretend to be excited about escorting her as she picks up our poo.
And let’s talk social distancing. I’m sorry, but there is no way in hades we will not escort you to the bathroom. There must be no distance, social or otherwise. (That reminds me: what’s up with putting your toilet paper supply under lock and key? Not funny, people!!!)
There is also no negotiating the sleeping on your bed thing. Sure, some of us have boundaries and may respect gates and crates. But I will defend my right to sleep on top of you and breathe heavily until your sleep-deprived self begs for mercy till my last breath. There will be no OES social distancing, capisce? I cannot stress this enough.
Now, even though we may be somewhat limited in permitting the world to adore us, there are things we can push for to our advantage. For one thing, the great outdoors – remember that space? You can still walk us; the less populated the area, the better. Now that we won’t be in public as much, you can take a greater risk on the great hiking area versus spring mud Armageddon tradeoff. You have time to groom us, let’s not pretend otherwise.
Besides, the great outdoors is a great virus equalizer. Not going to find too many pathological spots on our lovely Wisconsin trees and dead grass. So there’s that. Also, we’re noticing that you sitting on your lard butt worrying about this is not doing you any favors. We didn’t want to say anything, but someday, probably sooner than you think, you will once again put on your fancy show skirt – the one with the great treat pockets, of course. And if you make us look bad by not being able to make it even once around the ring without huffing and puffing, we will have to have a talk. I am perfect, as you know. You need to hold up your end of the bargain or this is not going to work.
Also, while I’m being frank here, let’s talk brothers. I appreciate that you put him in a formal obedience class before me. He needs it more, being a boy and all. And it is possible, due to the human – training area ratio, that he will be permitted to attend even while many things are cancelled. But this coming home bragging about how people think he is cute has got to stop. MAKE HIM STOP. I am the cutest. I am the smartest. I insist you mandate complete social distancing and tell people they may no longer tell him nice things. In this time of being confined, having to share space with his ever-expanding big head is cramping my style.
Other than that, all I can tell you for now is that, based on my great-aunt Sybil’s telling it – and, at almost fourteen, she has survived many great blizzards, the great diet of ‘09, and many disasterous toilet paper hoarding events - this too will pass. The sun will still shine. The birds will still sing. We will still produce pounds of poop to keep the uprights busy. Life will go on and we will remind you of that every day, and twice at dinner time.
OK, I grant you, it’s not the same thing. But the point is that you’ve faced challenges before and, with us by your side, yes, poop happens, but life goes.
If that pep talk doesn’t work, hug your Upright. She may need it. And even if she doesn’t, odds are she has cookies in her pocket you can pilfer while you’re at it.