By the Light of the Moon - Sibes.Org Article

OK, I admit it. I really despise fast-food, children's meals. So does Robbi. However...and I truly hate to admit this part...they do have those cute toys. And, although one can buy the items separately, it is a better value to buy the whole kiddy meal. No, we don't actually eat the food. No adult human in his or her right mind does. So, Taz, of course, got the burger.

Much later, I realized that the fries were still in the bag along with the toy. That evening, I decided to give the fries to Ninja, our chow-cross. With a pounding jump, Taz greeted me when I stepped into the yard, then realized there was something edible in the bag I held. Figuring that huskies are finicky, I thought he would reject the old, cold fries. Nope. He loved them. So, I gave some to Taz over here, and some to Ninja, over there--to be safe, of course. I should have known what was coming…

Ninja chowed down her fries much faster and came over to get some of Taz' fries, should he have left any unguarded. Once within range, Ninja took one bite of fry, then took one bite of Taz

BAM! Instantly they were embroiled in one of the most intense dogfights I had ever witnessed. Two muscular masses of teeth and fur, roaring, tearing, bashing, slashing in a cloud of bloody dirt and flying dust amidst the growing darkness of the yard. Fortunately, I was wearing boots, as Ninja did take a bite of one leg. A ten-minute eternity ensued as I worked desperately to separate the dogs with all my strength. Time and again, the dogs would writhe and twist to break my grip and swing about to attack again.

Finally, with raw fingers intertwined into Taz' choker and the other hand grasping firmly into Ninja's neck and fur, the three of us lay utterly exhausted, numb and almost paralyzed, filthy, sweaty and bloody on the ground, my arms outstretched to the limits trying to keep distance between the still hell-bent combatants. I was gasping for breath so heavily that I couldn't even call Robbi for assistance. So, there we lay, me on my back and spread eagle between two dogs, each hoping I would lower my guard or lessen my grip so they might renew the conflict. And me, one big, tired puppy myself, being the only thing between them and a very, big vet bill.

As I lay there, I questioned, "How I could have made such an error with the fries?" "Why do the dogs continue to fight so violently?" "How could cats could be so dumb?" "Why are dogs so vicious to cats?", among other eternal ponderances...and as I gazed to the sky through the bougainvillea branches, there perhaps, rose my answer in night sky...

A beautiful, bright Full Moon!

It made perfect sense. Having once been a graveyard shift telephone operator, I knew full well the aberrations that humans might incur during a full moon. If wolves and huskies howl at the moon, it only made sense that it could at least be a contributing factor here.

My moon gazing query continued its celestial speculation. Mankind’s vaunted moral consciousness, the manager of his emotions, according to Darwinian thinking has been touted as the definitive difference between animals and us. Increasingly however, that distinction is blurring. The ability to take responsibility for one’s behavior is evaporating. The harboring of hair-trigger emotions, which set off violence of deadly nature, is no longer confined to the conduct of wild animals and dogs. It looms in the increasingly aggressive mindset of gang members, road raged commuters, disgruntled employees well beyond the postal service, and even schoolchildren. When we reach a point where even a mere glance in askance is cause for murder, are we really better than animals? In many ways we could be less. Logical thought, calm patience and insightful discretion do not appear to be encouraged in today’s society. When we accept blaming the moon for vicious actions then, much like dogs, we have surrendered our humanity.

Over the years, Robbi’s husky, Ruach, exhibited ability to make cognizant choices. Taz has that same ability, although he first actively calculates how much trouble his decisions will net him. And quite often he opts for the trouble, but not necessarily due to raw emotion.

Observation: In the end, much like the dogs, uncensored emotion is a poor argument and senseless excuse to fight. The moon looks down on all of us. We decide how to act or react. It does not control us…unless we let it. My sermon for the day.

The required-attendance church service finally ended when Robbi realized that I had been gone way too long and stepped out to find to the three of us prone on the now dewy ground, the dogs still not having forgiven each other.

If Robbi hadn't appeared I might still be out there today. She took Taz, while I took Ninja. Megan, our Aussie Shepherd had been sequestered in the house during this time causing no problem. And we all lived happily ever after. And if anyone believes that, have I got the dog for them!!

Scott, Robbi and occasionally...TAZ

"How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it."

-- Marcus Aurelius