The Dawn Run

It’s dawn. The unspeakably delicate sky of Guatemala spreads its pinks, whites, greys and blues over the mountains.

Day begins at Hound Heights with the morning release of the House Dogs.

Practised ease has edged them through the door and shut them out while hangovers are slaked and they poise, like racehorses in the gate, impatiently for the steady human foot to set forth.

“C’mon doggies!” it warbles, and 15 dogs race each other across the yard towards the open mountain like greyhounds on champagne. Ah, that morning air!

Princess is Play Leader, always has been and still is, even at 10 years of age.
The gate swings and Princess is off, strong males Samuel and Treckle right behind. No – not behind - on top. Snarling, sneagling, roaring, barking their heads off and bouncing, they play-bite her neck, over-leap her racing bod as she snaps, spins and lunges, now this way now that, the Gobsmacking Buttlash that hurls Samuel clattering off the path and down the mountainside, skidding through the mud and leaf-mould as the bark-level escalates and dawn is shattered into a million bits of mud-splattered bird song, leaf-filtered sun flashes, and a chaotic madness of uncooped dogs at play.

Play being the word. Samuel and Treckle could kill Princess in the blink of an eye if they wanted. Why don’t they?

Why do we? Dogs play at war, homo sapiens does War for real. Perhaps it’s a question of intelligence – Intelligence and Art? Would my dog stick this beautifully engraved Illuminatus dagger into your filthy Infidel heart? And fear, of course. Which is why I spook myself, while my dog so happily accepts her identity.

Dogs are Pack first, Individuals second. Humans aren’t so sure – “am I me or am I us?” - an existential uncertainty that permits war, hooliganism, journalism, television and all the other evils that upset a peaceful life. The dogs will tell you that Humans’ self-centred utilitarianism is a small heap of vegetable peelings.

Meanwhile Rocket Radar – Mister “I’m not blind, I just can’t see” -   has squeezed his fat physique under the gate before it’s even opened, and is prancing down the track in the lead, Princess and cohorts crashing behind, jumping, breathing in gulps, investing every dawning second with pertinence, barking defiance at the world.

The Sun and the planet Venus rise over Guatemala. The dogs of AWARE race down the path in the embryonic light, and once again Life throws open the gates of possibility.

What will we make of Possibility today? Today as always every single species on the planet with the exception of homo sapiens will come up joyfully with a sustainable answer.