"the twilight bark"

Community care is the answer.

When people ask me how I pass my time, usually one word comes to mind first: Dogs. I spend a lot of my days walking dogs, feeding dogs, playing with dogs, snuggling dogs, observing dogs, thinking about dogs… I have two dogs: A two-and-a-half-year-old mutt named Zonker with some kind of undiagnosable neurodivergence (anybody have a doggy psychiatrist they recommend?) and a trazodone prescription, and an 18-year-old chihuahua-terrier mix named Franny with… an 18-year-old doggy body. They’re each hilariously high-maintenance in very specific ways, and they take up so much of my time. But I wouldn’t have it any other way because they’re so damn good.

My dogs have taught me gentleness. They’ve taught me patience. They’ve taught me how to be present. And they’ve taught me how to care. I don’t just mean that I take care of them, but that I’m better because I get to watch the ways my dogs show care. They’re just so pure, in the truest sense of the word. There is no pretense, no ulterior motives. They feel what they feel, and more often than not, that feeling is intense care.

When the big dogs get a little too close to Franny at the dog park, Zonker hops around and nudges them away to protect his sister and make sure she has space. When I cry, Franny leans her warm little body, somehow both bony and soft, as close to me as she can. When Zonker plays a little too roughly and accidentally nips my hand, he stops and softly licks the spot. He somehow inherently knows how to kiss to make it better.

Not only do I think about my own dogs a lot, but I also often think about fictional ones. And there’s a scene in 101 Dalmatians that occupies so much space in my brain, and not just because that whole movie is one of the most stylish pieces of art ever. It’s the scene where Pongo barks out to all of London, letting them know his puppies have been stolen by Cruella de Vil. In his moment of need, he calls out to his community… and they answer, in a glorious twilight bark chain that connects them all. When one dog family needs help, they all care. They all come together to spread the message and to help.

The idea that dogs are good is not revolutionary, but sometimes it’s helpful to remember things that are simple and pure and good, and to look to them for guidance. Sometimes the simplest actions are the answers we need. Speak up when something is wrong. Spread the word. Share resources. Kiss to make it better. Take care of each other.

People may not be quite as good as dogs, but they can get pretty close. And I do believe most people are fundamentally good. Most people do not want children abducted from their families or neighbors gunned down in the street by federal agents. Most people want our fundamental civil rights protected. Most people want a safe community for everyone.

So here I am, in my spot in the twilight bark chain, reminding you that something is wrong right now, but also that we can do things to show we care. Here are ways you can help Minnesotans, who are showing amazing displays of strength and solidarity. Here’s an easy way to call your reps to tell them how you feel about what’s going on. And, the National Shutdown is happening tomorrow, January 30th. Together, our bark chain is powerful. And it can do some good.