Vafa is a philosopher dog, tracing his intellectual and literary ancestry to notable predecessors like Cerberus from Lucian’s *Dialogues of the Dead* and the characters from Ibn al-Muqaffa’s *Kalila-wa-Dimna*. Proudly part of this distinguished kinship, Vafa also connects with the unnamed narrator in Kafka’s *Investigations of a Dog* and the popular internet meme, the Doge. His philosophical musings and reflections continue the legacy of these iconic canine thinkers.
After we’ve had our respective naps and a long game of tag, Amelia proposes that we go for a walk. Do we agree on the type of walk, I cue. Yes.
We get just a few feet from home and I am flooded with new smells, new sounds, the sun flickering down from the trees and into my fur, and the warm evening pavement and grass on my paws. I am overwhelmed; too excited to move; I just need to pause.
Every plant is in bloom; every sidewalk crack accommodates a different moss; the ground is riddled with rises and divots, its uneven surface pressing on my paws; the green and brown grasses mix releasing new smells and changing textures; the soil is filled with mysterious little disruptions; the direction of the wind has switched since I was last out, carrying a distinct breeze of smells; and the oaks that line our block leave a great trail of odours and pollen that makes my nose tickle. As I smell and feel them, they are all causes for pause—for awe—and command my total sensory immersion.
I feel a little tug—come on Vafa, lets go! Amelia insists on sprinting the first block to “wake up.” I admit sometimes I like doing this, but right now I tell her I’m enjoying my state of somnambulism, as things muse at me before I can discover them.
I return the tug—to where? I thought we agreed we have no destination, we are just out for a walk?
You’re right Vafa we are, but walking is not what we’re doing right now—right now, we are stopped, smelling and feeling the ground.
I had anticipated this. But is that not part of the type of walking we agreed on? I retorted. Why do you insist that we keep moving if you’re supposedly not destination-oriented? You don’t even know where you are going and you are in a rush to get there.
Persistent, she provokes: don’t you want to explore? And see new things?
(As if I am the one who is being lame; I am being inquisitive, probing, adventurous, while she is dissatisfied at my sensitivity and noble resistance.)
Sure, I do, but there’s lots to explore right here; you could spend lifetimes on this block alone—this square meter in fact! You’re not exploring right—still—even after all your reasoning and rhyming on the values of wandering, still you don’t. We agreed on a type of walk, no? A wander, one with the objectives—since that seems to be how you like to think—to be outside, to be moving without a destination and without elevating our heart rates excessively, to immerse our full sensorium, to be pulled by whatever might capture our nose (eyes for you maybe), and to take better notice of spaces. After your attempted critique of ocularcentrism, still you equate “exploring” with “seeing new things” and let your eyes alone direct you.
My olfactory capacities would completely confound your imagination! You could never possibly write up the extent of them, try as you may. I am sooooo much better at this than you—your own activities! and still you think you can access this through reason and representations. Even as you articulate the impossibility of doing so, still you try, undermining yourself at every turn.
You are right Vafa. Take your time and I’ll take mine. You know, you are an inspiration—keep tugging back at me, I am listening, I hope you can see and understand my weaknesses.
Let’s not even get into the other ones, I caution. Though now that you mention it I did have a small point about the write-ups.
I’m all ears.
In all your writing for walking you cite many other authors for their words, their reasonings, questions they raise, and the imagination they lend you. Yet I see I am cited nowhere—not even a mention—despite the fact that as we already agreed, I embody your lessons, teach you—or at least try—and am the source of your inspiration! It is a nice practice really, citing; in attributing someone’s contributions, it’s like they are almost there. In a way it is a gentle assertion of a kind of presence that indicates co-creation—Vafa…you are doing this all the time! Rather than every few phrases, every few steps.
(I decided to bypass the fact that she interrupted—I welcome digressions.) You mean my peeing?
Yes! You add to the smells and the affect of each place for those who come after you, gently (re)asserting your presence.
Right, so to return, it’s like I peed all over your writing but it is totally invisible.
As soon as we get home I will make better acknowledgement of your contributions and inspirations. The problem is that your contributions are less tangible, there is no text source to indicate, so it’s difficult to “cite” conventionally, you understand?
The persistence of human conceit, I thought!!
Oh, I thought you like bending conventions too? At least theoretically you do, and when it suits you you seem perfectly happy ignoring them. And I thought that going beyond text-centered expression is “necessary”—your words right? I am sure you can use your imagination.
I hear the noise of the light and am suddenly compelled to cross the street. Why are we going this way—I turn and look, really?—nevermind: Amelia learns slowly. On the other side we walk past a group of people. They are hanging out and playing music, many of them say hi to me and smile. We walk a little further and I feel my legs realizing I am getting tired. To go all the way around this block seems too ambitious. At this thought, I stop and turn around.
Vafa, I am convinced of walking aimlessly, but we just walked by all of those people; we can’t immediately turn and walk right past them again. They will think that something is wrong—that we have lost something; that we are lost.
So you care more about the hypothetical perception of a group of strangers, and allow this to direct your movements, more than how I feel? I will make a concession here—not only your eyes direct you, you also let other people’s eyes direct you!
She says nothing but relents. She feels shy now I can tell so as we walk past I compensate, and in an effort to distract everyone from the awkwardness I seem to have elicited, am particularly exuberant in my hellos, jumping on and smelling everyone.