Bonnie The Vampire Slayer

A photo my mother sent me of our new Bouvier des Flanders smiling at the camera.

There’s a song titled “If We Were Vampires.” It’s by country artist Jason Isbell.

The song argues that the existence of death is a good thing, that our days on this planet are finite for a good reason. If all of us knew we had forever to do what we wanted, we wouldn’t feel motivated to do it today.

Isbell suggests that if we were immortal, life would be cheap and ultimately meaningless. On a very basic level, that makes sense, because the less you have of something, the more valuable (and, if it’s a commodity to be bought and sold, expensive) that something will become. That’s Economics 101.

Allow me to paint a picture for you. I’m sitting on my couch, in a position that’s admittedly closer to lying supine on it. I’ve got battle music from EarthBound in my headphones, entering my ears to help me keep my “writing rhythm.” And on the floor, a handful of feet from me, lies a black ball of fluff.

Of course, she isn’t merely a black ball of fluff. She’s a Belgian sheepdog, a breed by the name of Bouvier des Flanders. And she’s the new family pet.

Her name is Bonnie. For months, my family debated about whether we would be wise to take on another dog. On the one hand, it might feel too soon after we put our last dog down this past July. And then there’s the fact that my parents are getting older. If Bonnie lives to or past the average lifespan of this breed, my parents will be in their seventies by the time the Bouvier reaches the end of the road. That’s why we chose a female this time, because they don’t get quite as massive. 

In the end, the desire for a furry companion led us to get another dog. Of course, it is very important not to frame it as a replacement for Padfoot. No dog can truly replace Padfoot. Rather, Bonnie will supplement our life.

We took her home yesterday from a breeder in Connecticut. After less than twenty-four hours with her, I’m starting to wonder if I truly understand the meaning of the term puppy love. At a minimum, I see why people use this saying.

According to my mother and sister, Bonnie lived the first few months of her life in a very confined environment. It was not a prison, of course - even in the United States, there are certain ethical standards for the treatment of animals we’re allowed to keep as pets. But now she can get more individual attention, and she’s basking in it.

When I say basking, I do mean that. Every so often, she’ll walk over to me while I’m on my computer, and I’ll take my headphones off and give her some pets. She’ll invariably make an expression that I assume is the canine equivalent of a smile. And, much like Padfoot, she appreciates it when I scratch her behind the ears. Apparently that’s heaven for almost all dogs.

My favorite thing about Bonnie the Bouvier so far is her curiosity. As stated above, the place she grew up was quite restricted, and she had very little ability to explore. That’s no longer the case here. We have a playpen in the house, but we also have a decent yard that she can run around in. Admittedly, she isn’t running yet.

That’s the other thing. Watching her waddle unevenly on the linoleum floor, as though she’s just finding her footing, is one of the most adorable things ever. I’m not a human dad yet, and I don’t really want to be, but I’m starting to wonder if this is how parents feel watching their human children take their first steps as toddlers. Perhaps it’s a sense of pride. 

Now, I’m not going to wave away the fact that being a dog owner is a lot of work. A pet is not merely your property. They’re a living being that has needs both physical and emotional. If you have a dog, you’ll need to feed them regularly and pay attention to their dietary requirements. You’ll go to Petco frequently, and there’s also a vet. As confusing as the health insurance system in this country might be for humans, a pet adds another layer to this mess.

And of course, sometimes there’s a literal mess. Come to think of it, I don’t fully understand why the term for toilet training a dog is “housebreaking”, but I didn’t make the rules of the English language. We can talk all day long about how the English language makes very little sense, but enough about that. The house is going to smell like dog shit sometimes, as will the yard, and it adds some unpleasant work, but that’s just what you sign up for. It’s involved when you’re a human parent too.

It’s not just the physical needs of a pet that one must address, however, but also the emotional needs. Whenever Bonnie comes close to me, I put my computer down and take my headphones off so that, at least for a brief moment, I can give her my undivided attention. I want Bonnie to believe that I love her and care about her, because it’s true. Animals are more perceptive than we give them credit for.

Now, I’m not an overly spiritual person. My feelings about religion in general are complicated. One issue that’s often been raised by detractors of the Abrahamic faiths, one reason why It Makes No Sense And Is Arrogant™, is that it’s very human-centered. For instance, Genetically Modified Skeptic, a prominent atheist YouTuber, has released a video about why he doesn’t consider himself a humanist.

For the record, I agree that this is a major problem for anyone who wants to argue in favor of those beliefs being true. If you’re going to posit that dogs, for instance, have thoughts and feelings (and they do), then that opens a Pandora’s Box worth of questions. To paraphrase a famous ‘90s song, the questions start coming and they don’t stop coming.

Do dogs have souls? If so, is there a heaven and hell for dogs? If so, how does a dog get to either one? Is this the same heaven that humans go to? If not, how will the human owner be happy in heaven without their Earthly pet for all eternity? If so, is that human really them or some automaton blindly praising the Lord? If not, and the human is distraught without their dog, are they really in heaven? Why would God create different standards for humans and dogs, anyway? 

We can list these questions until the cows come home, but my point is that a religious person might twist themselves into a pretzel trying to answer all or even any of them. One answer might spawn two more questions, just like the Hydra from Greek mythology. And for the record, not all Christians believe in hell, and their answers to these questions will vary greatly. I don’t want to paint all Christians (or Muslims, for that matter) with a broad brush. Some things just don’t make sense, and “things that don’t make sense” are hardly exclusive to religious claims. 

Just because something sounds crazy doesn’t mean it can’t possibly be true. Yes, Wikipedia states that Gavin Newsom was once married to Kimberly Guilfoyle. That Wikipedia page cites civic records indicating that Gavin Newsom tied the knot with Kimberly Guilfoyle. There might even be archived footage of them as a couple, or news reports about their divorce. We have very strong evidence that Newsom and Guilfoyle were once married to each other.

And yet, if I told you that for the first time, you’d think I was insane. We all remember that video of Guilfoyle at the 2020 RNC, smiling like Cruella De Vil and screaming “THE BEST…IS YET…TO COME!” Some of us even remember the drag queen parody that was somehow less insane than the actual speech. Given that Guilfoyle is a major Trump ally and his nominee for Ambassador to Greece, whereas Newsom is the Governor of the state Republicans love to vilify, it just seems insane that they ever thought of one another as suitable partners in life. But it’s true.

Let’s go back to Bonnie for a moment. I know right now that I’ll give her as much affection as I can bear. That I’ll pet her when I get the chance, give her scratches behind the ears, and whatever else she enjoys. If she craves attention, she will get attention. I’m going to make the most of every day I have with her.

I’m also well aware that these days are limited. That’s why I make the most of them. If we were vampires and death was a joke, as Jason Isbell reminds us, would we feel the need to milk everything we could out of our time? Not likely. 

That being said, I harbor some hope - not faith, but hope - that the indigenous peoples who lived on this land (and elsewhere) thousands of years ago were onto something. The aforementioned Genetically Modified Skeptic rebutted the claim that “religion was invented when the first con man met the first fool”. He basically said that while it’s easy for the more cynical among us to feel that way, there are very real reasons (including from an evolutionary standpoint) why so many ancient cultures came up with what we might call religion today. And yet, part of me feels like if it was so ubiquitous at a time when these societies rarely interacted unless they were at war, it’s at least conceivable that there’s something to it.

If this is true (or maybe even if it isn’t), I like to think of my trip to Ireland last month. I like to think of that mountainous area in Connemara with those impossibly verdant peaks. Sheepdogs roamed more or less freely, getting plenty of exercise and eating grass to their heart’s content. Unlike Padfoot, who only ate grass when his stomach was upset, grazing was an important part of life for these creatures. Although Ireland is not Costa Rica, it might as well be pura vida for these dogs.

If I think hard enough, I can picture one of those hyperactive fluffy sheepdogs, seemingly in heaven on Earth, and wonder if heaven on Earth is literal in this case. 

Could one of those sheepdogs be Padfoot? Could his soul be in one of their bodies? Through being a Good Dog™ in his last life from 2012 to 2024, could he have earned an upgrade to the Emerald Isle in his next life?

Sure, it sounds crazy. I probably sound like one of those crazy New Age people who sells crystals in a run-down building beneath the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona. And that may be true. Or I’ve simply let my imagination run wild, and I’m reading too much into this. I don’t know.

What I do know is that the next time Bonnie comes over to my spot, she’ll get more scratches. She’ll get as much affection as I can give her. And she’ll be loved in a way that wouldn’t be plausible if we were vampires.