As is appropriate for a good dog belonging to inspiring men, Tito has spurred a bit of thoughtful conversation with his passing. In response to PZ Myers’ note on Carl and Hank’s loss, commenter Skeptyk observes:
PZ, dogs have been a wildly successful species, I think because their genes have exploited ours. So, are they symbiotes, parasites, parasitoids? I am a happy host and alpha dog stand-in for these guys. Neoteny? Survival of the cutest?
And that reminded me of something I wrote long ago. If I had to choose one piece from among all of my early writing to survive past my lifetime, I think I’d pick Convergent Evolution. I see passages there, a decade after writing, that I would now rearrange. But it’s still one of the pieces of writing of which I am most proud.
I offer it here today for Carl and Hank, and for Tito.
What a haunting, beautifully expressed, beautifully crafted piece. I don’t understand how you do it-such clear sight you have, of yourself, of the world, of your place in it. It’s a lovely tribute to Tito and his people, and to Zeke, and to their-and our-ancestors.
Thank you for linking to it-I’d missed it in my poking around the archives.
I see you didn’t have an awnser for me about why you think this forum is Kofax worthy. Instead, more non-politcal irrelevant stuff. Why should anyone vote for this blog? Where is the progressiveness? It’s all fucking camping and birds. Why aren’t you findrasing for the Democratic Party?
it is a beautiful piece.
Ah, thank you Chris. If love of the world won’t save us, I don’t know what will.
Thank you, all.
and S.N.I., one sentence in your comment seems unclear.
It’s all fucking camping and birds.
Did you mean to put a comma after “fucking”? Because I really don’t post about fucking all that much.
Yeah, fuck birds! What have they ever done for us (except be dinosaurs, because that was pretty rad)? They don’t even support the Democrats! What, do they WANT to go extinct?
Fuck birds.
“If the Spotted Owl can’t adapt, screw it.”
—Rush Limbaugh
Great post!
I misread the part about you playing on the kitchen floor with your brother, wrestling matches. I had this image in my head of the two of you on the kitchen floor with a bunch of matchsticks, pretending they were wrestlers. Wrestlers with no arms or legs. And I thought that gave me flash of insight into how you got to be the way you are.
I read it wrong.