"That is a Beautiful Tardigrade You Have There..."

An interesting observation of social interactions that I forgot to mention was common in the Santa Fe Plaza. The first time I brought Kukla to the Plaza with me, we found a sunny bench and sat down in our respective places to "watch the world go by". Within minutes, five at the most, some lady and/or gentleman would stop and exclaim, "What a beautiful dog you have! Oh, isn't she gorgeous?!?" or an equally enthusiastic variation on this, sometimes followed with the question, "Does she bite?" Which is a sensible thing to ask before putting a hand in her mouth. But, by then the meeting is already being played out to everyone's happy expectations - providing no dog "smaller than a breadbox" (the kind Kukla does bite) is also present.

Almost as soon as her first admirers had gone along their way and I was looking elsewhere or finding again the passage I had recently left off reading in A Guide to the Successful Raising and Training of the North American Tardigrade, another admirer would come along to ask Kukla's name, praise her beauty, and comment on her outstanding canine qualities - while all the while Kukla blushed deeply and wagged her tail in appreciation of all this heartfelt adoration. Once, too, I thought I even saw her bow and curtsy like a doggy diva.

These "Love at First Sight" visitations took place at the rate of between 12-15 per hour and on each of the three days we sat in the Plaza together. But here is the interesting thing that I noted and much wondered about. After an hour or so we would walk back to the car where Kukla would take a lunch and siesta while I returned to the Plaza and my favorite cafe for a meal. During those solitary walks through the Plaza, or while sitting alone on a bench, not one passerby stopped to tell me what they thought of me (for better or for worse) nor to inquire of my illustrious ancestry or if I might be the famous operatic singer lately performing in "Die Missgeschicke von Hopalong Cassidy". And of the various people I made it a point of asking whether strangers often (or ever) approached them with the same enthusiastic admiration so spontaneously and generously lavished upon this or that dog on their path - the answer was always and ever only a variant of No. 

No, people do not say (at least not within earshot) such things as, "Now there is an elegant and lovely lady of impeccable style and charming demeanor!" Or, "See how this distinguished geezer comports himself with such a cheerful dignity, though rigor mortis must surely be near." Is this not a curious thing, that we should reserve these attentions and commentaries only for one another's dogs?

Next year, when I have carefully studied all seven volumes of the title referenced above, I will bring my beautiful Tardigrade to the Santa Fe Plaza in order to better acquaint her with the ways of human society. I hope her admirers will have much to say.

A Tardigrade 

(Milnesium tardigradum)