Plugged In

As Blue and I set off this morning, we joined the last wave of high-school kids heading up one of the city’s main veins. Some were in twos, dawdling despite their lateness, others walked alone with more purpose. One thing that stuck out was that the second group was all wired up, plugged in. Now admittedly, the man-made sounds of the city are nobody’s music of choice, but the idea of being locked into an MP3 strikes me as a kind of imprisonment, up there with modern-day foot binding–the 6-inch heel. First, one of the major senses is engaged elsewhere, when negotiating this city needs extra senses (a complementary set of eyes on stalks comes to mind) not fewer. Then there’s the whole other notion of listening out for the small treasures–a caged canary’s aria, the sub-song of a blackbird. Maybe I’m the odd one, but when I’m outside, I want to hear outside noises. Where is the distinction between places if you don’t?

Blue was at her most attractive this morning–to  male canines. She’s approaching estrus, and a black, white-bibbed suitor followed us for half the walk. The expression, led by the nose, occurred. I have to admit, it was an ambitious mutley since it would never have reached, but the prize in the dog world is in the going-for-it, the not over-analyzing, the reaching for the cherry irrespective of whether you fit the brief or not.

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