Let’s say you are a dog. You’re an old dog that’s lived in the world for a long time and found it pretty interesting, overall. Bad things may happen- you may even cause them- but bad and good tend to balance out in the long run. You don’t dwell on trouble, and anyway, past troubles become pleasant memories when you’re drowsing in a sunny place. Your human friends don’t know about most of your adventures; not because you’re secretive, but because-you’re a dog. You don’t talk.
Iago on Rambling
You know all about rambling. Barefoot always (you’re a dog) stepping carefully over stones, trotting in cool dry sand, racing across salty marshes by the sea, and sleeping anywhere, no problem. Just think about this for a moment. Dogs are expert ramblers.
A walk is not something you take. You’re always somewhere in the world, and there’s no start and stop. Why break it up into little bits that you name “my walk” and “my dinner” and “our day at the beach”? For heaven’s sake! Maybe it has something to do with the way you’ve perched yourself up on two legs, with your arms waving about in the air like a beetle in distress. Better: all four feet on the ground, head in front and tail behind, and off you go.
“Iago is old and may still have places he wants to visit,” says Annie. “Let’s go for a walk, Iago.”
Find your way to the market, or to the cathedral, or down the steepest hill of sharp stones to the river that wiggles below the town. You’ll see something different on every walk. Most of the time, you won’t be quite sure exactly where you are.
Everyone knows Iago. He’s everyone’s guest. His favorite pub is Au Bon Coin, where De De sets a bowl of water in front of him with some pate on bread. Iago drinks the water, eats the pate and politely spits out the bread. Then heads on his way.
Sometimes he gets tired and stops. He waits while Annie goes home and gets her red mail truck and picks him up. “Doucement,” she says as she helps him into the back.
Dunja Pelto Artwork and Essays 