Codger’s column: Woofless

Codger and Crone have been without a live-in dog for almost a year now, longer than any time in their almost 30 years together. That, the frigid weather and the doom dome we’re cowering under these days made it the worst winter in memory. 

But it’s spring now, and the baseball season has begun. Once, that would have been enough to offer the promise that all hopes are in play. But there is no dog and baseball doesn’t quite seem to have its old magic. And for all we know, the federal government may order Chief Read to invade Greenport.

Not funny, says Crone, who has little patience for Codger’s snark, even though she knows he can’t help himself.

O.K., so what do we do now, asks Codger? We can’t just growl back at the news, helplessly. How do we get back to the basics, like dogs and baseball, especially in this time of a president who has shown no affection for either, an obvious symptom of whatever you diagnose him suffering from.

Think harder, says Crone. How will a dog and/or baseball change the situation or make us feel better?

For starters, says Codger, we have to agree we are not looking for a dog right away. Dogs appear, often mysteriously, and make themselves available. The dogs that we’ve shared — Rudy, Milo, Apollo and Tess still seem to flit through the night to their phantom water bowls. 

Meanwhile, continues Codger, Lottie shows up just often enough to take the edge off longing. It’s true that after a few days, she seems happy enough to go back to Cathy, but everyone has had a good time.

Codger says: A dog of any size fills a house and gives it responsibilities and purpose. They also provide a buffer against the world, all those endlessly comforting conversations that begin “… [redacted] had a good poop this morning …” instead of “Did you read what [expletive deleted] just said?”

That was all very fine, says Crone, but how will it bring us any closer to pulling us out of this dark hole we are in?

Well, says Codger, there were plenty of dogs at the No Kings demonstration in Greenport last month, and they were not the dogs of war. Now, there’s an idea. How about The Dogs of Peace, maybe a traveling troupe trained to get along with each other and make friends along the way? 

Crone seemed to like that, a start toward common ground, a healing concept she promotes as often as she can. How about common ground as a series of local preserves, as a community of dog parks, says Codger. Everyone would be welcome who loves dogs, no place for anyone who rejects dogs, who rejects anyone, no matter where or when they were born. Inclusivity would be enforced by Border Collie Patrols.

Now, that’s funny, says Crone. Also consider that walking a dog every day satisfies our need to keep moving.

Healthful exercise, says Codger, is an act we can control and thus a kind of political activism.

Yes, dear, says Crone. 

Codger somehow finds that remark empowering and plunges on. He says, This gets us to baseball, with which too many people have been losing touch. It’s America’s Game, after all. Pro football has been pounding its padded chest as the new national pastime, but it’s a celebration of violence performed by men as masked-up and anonymous as ICE agents. With brain damage.   

Crone makes her, That’s-over-the-top face. 

Codger says, Consider this: The football season just materializes one day out of a summer haze, stamping its boots, demanding attention by knocking people down while baseball gently announces itself with a phrase that once stirred the nation’s imagination — Pitchers and Catchers are reporting. It’s a whispery pledge that people are preparing for a fresh start. Put me in, coach, I’m ready to play. We’re born again.

Crone says, What does that have to do with the mid-term elections?

Everything, says Codger. Consider this: Of the 840 major leaguers on 30 team rosters right now, about one-third might be vulnerable to ICE deportation. That’s roughly about 260 Latinos and 15 or 20 Japanese, including arguably the best player of all time, the great pitcher-hitter Shohei Ohtani of the Los Angeles Dodgers. You think fans would let them be abducted?

While Crone is considering that, Codger plunges on. Anyone who has ever co-habited with a dog or irrationally cheered for a hapless team, can understand that the hope spring brings is as real as the fantasy world in which we are living. Kristi Noem. Pam Bondi. Pete Hegseth. Lee Zeldin as attorney general. Who could make that up? 

It must be a horror show that will disappear the next time one of us says, “Heel!”