Tiffany named the dog Moose.
It was strange, to name an animal by another common animal name.
But she defended her decision well, saying that we name animals wrongly all the time.
The dog's name wasn't Moose or canine or even dog.
It might just be something in a language we cannot understand.
Complexity we cannot even understand and it's just their name.
Who knows what else we could learn, the truth of this world, if we could learn the languages of the animals?
Why learn the language of the wild if you're never going to be part of the wildlife?
Why learn the language of the dogs if you're never going to be a dog?
But we are a part of this wildlife, no matter how much we pollute and separate ourselves from nature; we are always a part of it.
But then again, language doesn't define who you are.
Speaking English doesn't make me an American; speaking Korean doesn't make me a Korean.
We just make these sounds, all these different sounds that aren't too different from a dog's bark to a cat's meow.
They're just these sounds from octaves all over, scales that go up and down the treble and bass clefs to tell a story about how we feel.
And sometimes, even words aren't enough.
We share DNA with all the animals that walk and swim this planet, so why do we hurt them?
Is it because of this nasty thing we called a hierarchy?
Is that why we hurt each other?
And Tiffany here, the girl who is now smiling with the confidence of a woman, stroking Moose's fur, she was just one of many caught in the crossfire.
Where the arrows, tips lit with the fire of hatred all meet in the middle of people being torn between their duty to themselves and to contribute to the world.
As much as I want to preserve water and help the environment by showering for only five minutes like the news states we should, it's nearly impossible.
My shower water gets warm in five minutes.
And as I hear the shower running, between the closed doors where Tiffany and Moose are enclosed, I'm sure she doesn't shower in only five minutes either.
That's too much water just wasted between the two of us, but after we close the shower head, do we care?
There are no clocks in the bathroom.
Ten minutes could be equal to five minutes, nature has no clockworks.
She comes out wearing my clothes; they fit her quite well, despite some loose ends.
But suit shirts never go wrong on nice figures, she has lost her womanly curves, but if you see past her broken heart, there is beauty there.
And the dog, we don't know his past, we won't understand what he tells us, but maybe we'll learn.
Maybe we'll learn the care-free attitude that he has, not burdened by rent and pay and careers.
Only caring for what time he will eat the new food I bought him from the new dog bowl and the time when he will go out on a leash with Tiffany to say Hello to the world.
And the happiness that he has over every little thing, like the newborn robins born this spring.
Spring, the time of new life, of being born and reborn, or waking up from the nightmares and the winter blues.
