More than three years ago, at the height of the COVID thing, I first met the editor of the Kennebunk Post, who was out on his daily run. He asked if I could share a dog’s perspective of the pandemic that we dogs also had to endure. I did. He hasn’t asked again, but regardless, it’s time for my update.
These past fall months at the beach have been a dog’s dream. Shawn Patrick Ouellette photo/Press Herald
At home, 21 years ago (in dog years, of course), we were all packed in like sardines in a Maine tin: school on Zoom, work from home, businesses closed, and the state of Maine was shut down by her governor.
Restaurant food could still be had: go online after scanning a limited menu, calling it in, and then driving to the restaurant’s empty parking lot. Soon, a masked dishwasher carried out the bags of rapidly cooling food. If I could have talked, I would have told mom and dad that we were now officially living the “doggie bag” life.
Today, we’re going everywhere again: back to work, to real school, shopping, even the movies, and to the real grocery store instead of the safer outside pick-up zone. I now have more downtime, giving me more opportunities for couch snoozing. When they come home, I’m ready to romp and play, but they don’t pay much attention to me anymore. I’m no longer that “what a cute puppy’ that I was two years ago.
Most of their attention now goes to a thing that’s embedded, actually growing out of their palms. They so excessively look at it, their necks are getting bent out of shape. Their chins will soon be growing into their chests. It can’t be fun, because they’re always jabbing and pecking away at it like hungry barnyard chickens.
These past fall months at the beach have been a dog’s dream. Freedom at last! We dogs are no longer the victims of punishing time-regulation signs. We no longer have to hold it in all until the end of the day. Now off leash, we can race up and down the beach, stop and do our thing, and take a break where we can sniff friendly rear ends. There are a lot of new very fragrant ones to sniff, so there must have been a lot of house sales during this COVID crisis?
I’m glad Halloween is past us, because my family loves to dress me up in stupid dog costumes. Last year, a pirate, I was stumbling all over the sidewalk because one of my eyes was covered with something black. This year, it was all about “Barbie,” someone like sis’s doll collection in her bedroom. I wore a hot pink, spangled, very sexy Barbie swimsuit. It’s embarrassing, because I’m a proud boy dog.
Sis wore a black, sparkling top hat and a skimpy cheerleader’s outfit emblazed with large “TS” letters. My bro went as a large store display box, all clear cellophane on the front, with “KEN” printed on the front of the box. Both of his arms were outside the box, so he could hold on to my leash and carry his swag bag in the other.
Sis doesn’t yet know that she has to hide her confectionary goodies, so I’m always into it after she heads off to bed. I especially like anything dark chocolate and the jelly beans. I only have paws, so I just eat it all, including the packaging. The next day, I pay a price, because the wrappings and paper are so hard to pass.
Sunday afternoons are dad’s time in his “Man Cave,” watching little but overdressed figures throwing a funny-shaped ball and running up and down a green field. I love fetch, but this can’t be much fun, because the people who couldn’t catch the ball get angry, knocking down and piling on the guy who caught it.
Recently, sis and her friends, wearing oversized sweatshirts with song lyrics on them, have joined dad at his TV. Soon, they’re screaming, “There she is! That’s her!” Then they chant “Swift, Swift!” Mom even comes in and giggles.
I’m hearing at home about a thing they call “elections.” I’m only a dog but it is clear mom and dad don’t like either of the two old guys, one colored red and the other blue, running for “Top Dog.” It’s something about them being more than 560 years old (dog years). They’re desperate for two younger 350-year-olds to step up and lead a new way forward.
You don’t have to be human to sense that there’s something invisible and scary out there, making people sick and sometimes killing them . During the past three years, my family has gotten all the shots and they’re still being super careful out there.
My role in our family is to be a courageous, loving comfort dog, ready for petting, furry hugs, face lickings, and cuddling on the couch or in bed. I’m always ready and willing to get them outdoors for walks, playing fetch, or romping at the beach.
I’m a proud member of my family and as mom says, “We’ll all get through this, everyone of us.” I’ll play my part, putting one paw in front of my other three. I’m afraid, that’s all we can do now.
Tom Murphy is a retired history teacher and state representative. He is a Kennebunk Landing resident and can be reached at tsmurphy@myfairpoint.net.
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