The Charlie Bravo Story

Fear Naught

Dad and I were rolling in the ChRV today, and we heard something that made perfect sense:
Fear creates anger, anger creates hate, hatred creates suffering.
Doesn’t that sound familiar? I think that it’s safe to say that there are many things that tend to frighten us right now, and in some cases, rightfully so. Covid comes immediately to mind. I tend to fall into the “cautious but optimistic” camp; I would not want to lose Dad, but neither would I want fear of “what if?” to change his psyche into a person vastly different than the person he was BC; “Before Corvacalypse”.
I’m a dog, and as such, I’m not in much danger of contracting the Corona, as of today at least. But what about tomorrow? What if the latest bulletin from the CDC declares that there is a canine variant? I realize that this may sound preposterous and not worthy of mentioning, but I’m sure that some worry about that type of thing; worry is interest paid on a note that’s not yet due.
Many years ago. John Steinbeck wrote in “Travels with Charlie” that “a sick spirit will kill you quicker. far quicker, than any virus”, and I’m seeing it happen all around me. A mask may or may not hinder the transmission of this virus according to what study you read, but there is not a mask or vaccine manufactured by man to prevent the spread of fear. Then, since we all deal with fear differently, it’s but a tiny step from the fear germinating into a root of anger when fertilized by a daily watering of self-righteousness. Anger then breaks the surface of the ground and the first sign of hatred manifests itself, which eventually brings on the suffering; dissociation of family and friends. An advanced state of loneliness made even more painful for many due to the upcoming holiday season, or the recent loss of a loved one.
We inmates at the Casa are all as different as night and day, but we all seem get along for the most part. I believe that it’s because we tend to concentrate on the 80% that unites us rather than on the 20% that would divide us. We, like our humans, need reminding of how good that we all have it, and intelligent disagreement cannot be heard over the sound of clashing spears.
Or in our case, clashing teeth during our nightly reenactment of the First Battle of Bitey Mouth. Sometimes enough is enough, and Dad lowers the boom on the festivities and forces us to chill out for a bit before things get too out of hand. Then we’re reminded that we can all get along, at least until Dad leaves the room, and good natured skirmishes break out once more.
We be of one blood; ye and I.

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