Even My Dog Knows Climate Change Is Here

A nice summer day, not like today.

I wish it was a better day. I wish I could go out and photograph, but I can't. It's hot and humid, just one more evil day of climate change. The dog threw up to object to my stupid plan to walk around the park and take pictures. 

I guess he had more sense than me. He had the brains to become ill when the atmosphere threatens.

It got me thinking. I've believed for a long time that there's good sense to becoming nauseated at times as a means to bowing out from danger. It's the body's way of saying there's something wrong when the mind doesn't understand things. There's good sense in anxiety and fear, and if these things become too strong, then maybe it is smart to become discombobulated to avoid the dangerous things we should avoid.

How many lives have saved themselves by the belly unconsciously making us sick when it's better off not to take action?

A lot, I bet.

That's not to say it's a good idea to avoid things you have to do, like staying home from school or work or repelling an invasion from another country, because they scare you.

It is to say that sometimes courage is stupid and anxiety and fear are smart.

This the body understands.

The trick is to be honest enough to know what you have to do and when, and also to know what you don't have to do at times and when it's just damn dumb to act. 

Fact and necessity have to factor in to the equation. Self-sacrifice isn't always necessary.

It's enough to drive you crazy. Your mind can subconsciously tell you either the right or wrong thing to do. If the conscious part is awake and functioning, it has to have a say in deciding and sometimes not listen to the body.

I thought about it enough to confuse myself for now.

So for today I'll thank my dog for getting sick and perhaps saving me from heat stroke. He was smarter than me. I think when the feels-like temperature is over 100 the intelligent thing to do is to stay inside, especially if you're old, like me. He knew that.

My dog is 13, which is 91 in dog years. Maybe that's proof he's older and wiser than me.

Now if we could just get everyone to look at the facts like Marvin and figure out there has to be a lot more for us to do to avoid be fried or baked or sautéed by climate change.

One wise canine sleeping through climate change.

 

The Day of the Water Spiders

On the hot day in summer, water spiders dance on a reflection
of the sun in a stream, searching for even more heat.

Hot, humid summer days that are miserable for humans might make for a joyful dance for some of nature's creatures.

Take a look at this photo taken on one of the hottest days of the year, one of the worst days for a man.

Sometimes, on awful days like this one, I'm surprised I can even press the shutter button of my camera.

It's that hot, and I'm that old and the air is that thick.

But for the water spiders that have just hatched, this is a day for a dance on the sun. It's as though they couldn't get enough heat and sought relief from the cooling water in its reflection.

For them, the sun is a magical source of life.

Maybe not so much for us anymore.

They needed to get as close as possible to it, pirouette on it, spin, dash and rush across the surface in what appeared to be insect madness to an old fogey like me who could barely put one foot in front of the other on this morning when the air seemed reluctant to let me pass through.

It was a day for water spiders, and it scared me.

It got me thinking. What if all the days in the future would be days tailored only for water spiders? What if the air would continue to thicken and heat until mere strolling through summer became impossible for a human being? What if this water spiders' dance signaled the end of me and my kind?

What if the water spiders took over because we destroyed ourselves by heating the planet?

We're making the earth weird for ourselves. Previously, it was our home. We knew the sun would rise, the air would flow into us and the night would darken and cool and give us sleep. We took all these things for granted.

Now maybe the water spiders were telling us something by dancing on the sun joyfully.

Their day is coming.

Maybe the time will come when they are the only ones who can do such a thing. Maybe the day will come when we dread the sunrise, we see the air as a burning a vapor in our lungs and experience nights fries us to a crisp as we try to sleep, remembering only its once-cooling embrace.

The water spiders are talking to us, I think.

They might even be laughing.