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Left To Its Uncertain Fate

The familiar behavior of a dog who's been 'temporarily abandoned':



What is going on in a dog's mind, this dog's mind, as it waits?
Does it 'realize' that it is 'waiting'?
Does the conceptual experience 'waiting' not apply?
Does the emotional, instinctual, or physical experience of waiting differ radically from the conceptual experience 'waiting'?

Is the experience one of utter anxiety? This dog certainly appears to be anxious. Yet in a different dog it may seem as though, once its owner takes leave, there is no immediate worry or afterthought-- it simply reacts to whatever happens or comes along, e.g. other people, other animals, passing cars, a sudden itch and immediate scratch, until that time its owner reappears and life as it was is resumed.

SELECTED TRANSCRIPT
Person 1: Oooh! Who are you! Are you shy?
Person 2: He's shy
Person 1: You're gonna bite me... I know that look
Person 3: That's not a biting look
Person 2: He's shy

The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Part II

     What remains of the dying population of Cambodia?
     One large photograph of an American actress holding an Asian child in her arms.
     What remains of Tomas?
     An inscription reading HE WANTED THE KINGDOM OF GOD ON EARTH.
     What remains of Beethoven?
     A frown, an improbable mane, and a somber voice intoning "Es muss sein!"
     What remains of Franz?
     An inscription reading A RETURN AFTER LONG WANDERINGS.
     And so on and so forth. Before we are forgotten, we will be turned into kitsch. Kitsch is the stopover between being and oblivion.

--excerpt from Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Florencio Ascends

Somerville, Massachusetts, USA

The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Part I

It was drizzling. As people rushed along, they began opening umbrellas over their heads, and all at once the streets were crowded, too. Arched umbrella roofs collided with one another. The men were courteous, and when passing Tereza they held their umbrellas high over their heads and gave her room to go by. But the women would not yield; each looked straight ahead, waiting for the other woman to acknowledge her inferiority and step aside. The meeting of the umbrellas was a test of strength. At first Tereza gave way, but when she realized her courtesy was not being reciprocated, she started clutching her umbrella like the other women and ramming it forcefully against the oncoming umbrellas. No one ever said "Sorry." For the most part no one said anything, though once or twice she did hear a "Fat cow!" or "Fuck you!"

--excerpt from Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being