Sketching strangers

Strangers with dogs.

Everyone seems to be writing about Bad January in their newsletters, and I am no different. What a wretched heap. I’ve been oscillating between feeling electrified by anger at the new administration and finding myself as limp as a possum. For instance, I felt quite zippy while reading Brock Colyar’s scene report from D.C.’s inauguration parties, which focused on the contingent of Trump fans who are young, internet-savvy, and really excited about the idea of saying slurs. At first, it was enlivening to realize how high school they all sounded, enjoying the thrill of making mean jokes. Then my feeling of 30-something superiority wore off when I remembered that high school social dynamics are, unfortunately, powerful at all stages of life. Possum mode reactivated.

Obviously you can’t play dead forever, because that’s how you get squished by an oncoming truck. (Does that happen often to possums? It must.) So I’m going to talk about something small and restorative that I saw recently.

I was in Palm Springs last week with family, and there I encountered many examples of my favorite genre of human: retirement-age men sitting in cafés and restaurants with little dogs in their laps. I took surreptitious photos of them, but for their privacy and my own amusement, I’m going to show them to you as drawings instead.

I saw this man at dinner one night. He had an elderly chihuahua in his lap, and every so often, he would tuck the dog into his fleece vest for warmth.

Even when I’m traveling, I like to have a morning routine, and in Palm Springs it was this: wake at 7 a.m., perform ablutions, then walk two minutes to the local coffee shop, Koffi, where everyone in town seemed to gather. The café opened onto a grassy courtyard scattered with tables and chairs, which quickly filled with clusters of friends and neighbors. This is the life I want: casual community with my caffeine.

This next guy was always at Koffi when I arrived. Some days he was alone, looking at his phone. Sometimes he was having a lively conversation with friends. Never without his terrier, though.

What is it about elders with little dogs? I don’t want to say that they’re cute, because my dad and Alex would both tell me I’m being condescending. (I think we can all agree that the dogs are cute, though.) It’s more that I relish the tenderness, care, and dedication expressed in their quiet companionship. They radiate long-term love.

Also at Koffi, I spied this guy cradling a dog encased in some sort of buttoned outfit. The dog looked like a baby.

Dogs are easy to love. Much easier to love than people. People insist on having their own priorities, opinions, and quibbles; they have moods that splash onto us, and, strangely, they aren’t always understanding when our moods splash onto them. They remind us too much of ourselves, in ways that are frightening and disturbing. When people feel like a lost cause, communing with a dog, one of those angels on earth, can restore our willingness to try.

I don’t know these Palm Springs guys, but what they have going on seems like something to aim at, as a foundation for life. A dog in your lap and a coffee at hand, face tipped toward the morning sun.

Kisses,
Eliza