Paws and Reflect – Détails, épisodes et analyse

First drafted in Everglades National Park, after a week of mesmerizing nature experiences.

Paddling a designated mangrove trail, I cringe as our inflatable kayak rubs the bottom of the pond. “We’re stirring up the mud,” I worry aloud. “How many organisms call this mud home?” Sean shakes his head.

We turn around shortly after. By this point we’ve already seen five alligators (one swimming parallel to us, disquieting agility on full display) and a dozen birds and too many fish to count. I’m in awe that this has been our Monday morning activity.

I’m also wondering if it should have been.

So often close creature encounters fill us with wonder—they allow us to more fully appreciate our fellow animals. But they are also, so often, one sided. What does the cardinal get from me peering closely except a modicum of discomfort? The Florida tree snails are dormant for the winter so my photography (in theory) doesn’t stir their slumber, but still—I am here, in their world, leaning in. And I am clumsy and species-centric and unable to coexist without inadvertent harm.

“Oh no, you scared him,” Sean said of the small toad I tried so carefully to step around on yesterday’s trail. “Shoot, she ran away,” I echoed about the anole I paused too long to observe.

How much of these reactions is normal? Creatures move toward and away from each other all the time. Perhaps I am not adding to their stress (the alligators certainly seem unbothered by my presence in their swamp); perhaps it’s self-aggrandizing to think so. But perhaps I am. Perhaps I am layering harm upon small harm, weaving fear deeper into their nervous systems, making their already fraught existence harder, all out of a desire to love them.

Love can hurt. Especially when it comes from a person.

Little Me developed so much respect for the natural world by engaging with the natural world. That’s the justification for practices—some worse than others, certainly—at organizations from SeaWorld to the tiny elephant sanctuary I called home after graduating college. Where do we draw the line? On our guided night hike in the Everglades, I was thrilled to see a nightjar illuminated by the ranger’s flashlight—but guilt pinged within me, too, at the creature’s small form huddled in the beam. Would we, me and Sean and five middle-aged couples, have felt less inspired if we hadn’t gotten to see up close? Would the bird have felt less scared?

Whose experience is more important, and do they have to interfere with each other, and how can we ever understand costs and benefits?

These questions are top of mind thanks in part to Nerdy About Nature’s recent post on whether outdoor recreation is a form of resource extraction. He thinks it is, and I largely agree. I also agree with the article’s top comment: “outdoor recreation is a gateway to caring about the planet,” writes Nick Costelloe. “The more people engage with natural spaces, the more they’ll care about them—and the more willing they’ll be to advocate for climate solutions.”

I’m just not sure what, exactly, ethical engagement with nature spaces ought to look like.

This past fall we drove up a steep, bumpy road to the most beautiful dispersed campsite we’ve ever seen overlooking the Great Tetons. We carefully followed every National Forest Service guideline. No campfires. Don’t stay more than five nights. Drive on previously used roads. Pack in what you pack out; leave no trace.

I grinned almost every minute we were there. I threw wide my arms and teared up at the sunrise and leashed Scout the second we saw another animal or person. But afterward, despite being a perfect stickler for the rules, I still had to ask: Is it truly possible to leave no trace?

One morning a fox trotted along the edge of our site. They paused, head raised, before darting away down the mountain. Neither we nor our dog pursued this breathtaking creature—but the canid knew, unmistakably, that we were there. Every living thing nearby knew we were there. How much of my own joy (and make no mistake: I experienced bright, bursting, overwhelming joy) is worth native flora and fauna’s discomfort? How much do NFS restrictions, even when meticulously observed, actually mitigate human impact?

How much could I love that mountain—that view, those creatures—if I hadn’t breathed their same air?

I don’t know. It’s easy to preach platitudes about respecting the environment. (Pick up trash, be bear aware, don’t bend the rules, do what the organizations in charge tell you to.) It’s harder to trust that these actions are good enough. And everything is exacerbated by the crisis facing American public lands under our current administration, worsening, it seems, by the day: staffing cuts, hiring freezes, harrowing sound bites to “drill, baby, drill”.

Never has holding great wonder—the kind that inspires us to care, that doesn’t allow us not to give a damn—about natural spaces been more important. Never has asking how we skew the ratio toward much more awe than harm.

Sean and I don’t regularly wear wedding rings. (The ones we do have are cheap nontraditional bands.) Our ceremony was short and, to be candid, kind of not a big deal. He did not only see me in my dress before our vows—he actually found my dress in the first place. I kept my last name. We rarely celebrate anniversaries beyond a “hey, look at the date!” nod.

I am unduly proud of the ways we eschew marriage norms—and I think I’m finally able to name why.

I worried for a while that my feelings were some sort of petty self righteousness or a “look how I’m not like other girls!” desire to be special. (Which... ew.) But that doesn't track with the fact that I’ve felt truly, properly happy for all the people in my life who do embrace western relationship norms in their own ways. Like, I have never once wondered if my best friend’s relationship is any less fulfilling or progressive or meaningful than mine because her ring is fancy gorgeous. I would never dream of telling my badass feminist colleague that taking her husband’s last name makes her a slave to the patriarchy. Still, though: I loved that I wasn’t doing these things.

What gives?

In my serious relationship before Sean, I relied on any and every surface-level signal that we were a couple. I needed evidence—traditional, obvious evidence—that our love was real. It wasn’t just the big things like my fancy engagement ring (come to think of it, my ex spent more time talking about how he chose the diamond on the day he proposed than why he loved me) or our over-the-top anniversary presents. We also needed constant nicknames and good morning texts and social media posts. (We once had a huge fight after a road trip because I captioned an Instagram of us—just one of many from those two weeks—something simple instead of using it to profess my love.) We were that couple. You’d hate seeing us on your feed, using public posts to insist things we didn’t even truly feel in a flawed attempt to grease the wheels of a squeaking, falling-apart relationship. (Sidebar: This habit made our breakup even harder because I’d spent so long convincing casual acquaintances we were great!! that they couldn't believe we’d actually had a billion problems. Ugh.)

Anyway: I needed so much “evidence” of our love precisely because there wasn’t, in reality, all that much love. I thought I could cover our failings with the right decor. What do you mean there’s a massive gap in the floorboards? No no, it’s nothing; we can hide it with a super fancy sofa!

It’s the exact opposite with Sean. I don’t crave external signals or classic traditions to reinforce our commitment because I already know we’re real. I believe in our love more than anything else—I have never doubted it, never felt the urge to mental-gymnastics something out of nothing.

Saying no thanks to nice rings and elaborate rituals isn’t a larger statement about how I think things “should” be done. (I do not believe there’s one “right” way in basically any area of life. And obviously not everyone uses traditions to mask massive relationship problems, in which case… more power to you. My past self is jealous.) No, my pride in this regard is about me, as an individual, emphasizing the juxtaposition between where I used to be and where I am now.

It’s funny that the excuse I gave some family members for why our nuptials were so small (I already planned a big wedding and we didn’t work out, I want my real one to feel as different as possible) turned out to be so centrally true. I love not doing these traditional things because I love not needing these traditional things.

If you want them, though? That’s a whole different story.

Sean and Haley sit down to talk about fostering, which is clearly very top of mind lately. I am absolutely honored to have inspired some people with dogs like Scout (fearful, reactive, otherwise not social butterflies, etc) to open their homes to foster pets. I'd love to normalize the fact that creatures can coexist without directly interacting — it doesn't have to be "throw the dogs in the backyard and they immediately get along" all or nothing!

That said, it's also really important to me that our personal experiences fostering are never used to say "hey this is possible, therefore you have to". Sometimes there can be a lot of pressure in the rescue world — and while I empathize with where those big emotions come from, everyone gets to make the decisions right for their individual pets and situations. We all decide what level of management and risk we're comfortable with. There is no one single way to be a "good" person or animal lover.

In short: The ultimate goal of these rambles is to acknowledge that fostering a dog who is not interacting with resident animals (for whatever reason):

1. Can be very hard. A multi-dog household, even if temporary, is never something I'd expect or force.


2.  But: It also is doable in the right circumstances. Not every animal in a house has to be instant best friends for it to be a successful experience!

Nuance, as always.

Sean and Haley are a little tired and frazzled today after some busy weeks... but we sit down to talk about our current foster dog, a seven-month-old puppy with a broken leg, and the emotional rollercoaster we've lived since picking her up on Monday morning.

We cover: a brief overview of Mystic's condition and what's made this situation challenging, that it's okay to have big emotions and struggle with things (yes, even if you're a self-proclaimed dog person with high standards!), that I've never been more thankful for the strength of my relationships with both Sean and Scout, how we've tried to process our feelings to stay connected as a team, and some logistics of this foster experience overall. Complete with a few other rambles, of course — and gushing about how much we really do love this little dog even if she's given us a run for our money.

Related links:

• Our Foster Mystic story highlight on Instagram details our day-to-day so far


• Our Foster Puppies Instagram guide compiles posts about our initial time with Mystic and her littermate back in July


• The Rescue category of our blog has multiple articles about our fostering journeys

Sean and Haley talk about social / observational learning with our dogs, how incredibly COOL and worthwhile those concepts are to explore, and also how they can fit into advocating for our pets. (Sometimes "showing our dog a person / dog / situation is okay" and "advocating for our dog" might sound contradictory, especially if we hear extreme statements at far ends of either spectrum, but they aren't mutually exclusive!)

Some specific books that inspired these thoughts:

• Dog is Love by Clive Wynne


• The Genius of Dogs by Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods


• Dog Sense by John Bradshaw


• (Highly recommend reading the actual studies discussed for more context; all three of the above titles have nicely organized reference sections specific to dogs)


• Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are by Frans de Waal

Some related links:

• Running list of dog ownership books I recommend overall


• Running list of all the animal-related books I've read recently


• Sean's older blog about "just hanging out" with Scout (talks about social relationships, approaching them in a natural way)


• Blog on if my dog wants to please me or not


• Blog on thinking about my dog as a human friend


• Blog on advocating for my dog


• Blog on the line between advocating and "babying" my dog

Our van conversion will be finished in just three months! Sean and I sat down to answer some commonly asked questions about our choice to live in a van full-time along with a few build details.

We go over:

• Why do we want to pursue van life in the first place?


• Why go through a conversion company for our build insteading of converting a van ourselves?


• Why buy our house a year and a half ago, and why sell it now?


• Why a Promaster?


• How is the van temperature controlled?


• How else have we set the van up with Scout in mind?


• Why include a shower?


• How does internet work?


• What are we most looking forward to?


• What are we most nervous about?

Related links:

• "Van Life" category of our blog

Sean and Haley talk about balancing work, dog ownership, and other responsibilities with self care and messy emotions — specifically in the context of working from home.

It's been easy for me to feel like a remote work schedule should automatically mean my days are more productive (I don't have a commute to drain my time, I'm with Scout for more of the day so can fit in short frequent play sessions, etc) especially now that I've gone out on my own with a more flexible schedule. On the one hand? I absolutely do want to make sure I use my time wisely and don't take these opportunities for granted! On the other? My own fulfillment and rest are as important as ever. I don't need to constantly self-sacrifice in order to "deserve" the good things in life, and there is no shame in taking time for myself.

Some related links:

• I Quit an Awesome Job to Write About My Dog? (reflections on going out on my own)


• “Just” an Owner: Do I Have Any Right to Talk About Dogs? (relates to imposter syndrome, wondering if I even deserve to get to write about animals for a living)

Sean and Haley talk about embracing the mythical magic of our relationship with Scout (how incredible is it that we harmoniously share life with a creature of a whole different species?!) while also staying rooted in an accurate perception of what makes our cattle dog, well, a dog.

Sometimes we see animal lovers delving into "folk nonsense" and expecting unfair things from their companions (or creating potentially dangerous situations by assuming our pets automatically understand societal norms, illnesses, or so on in ways they actually might not). On the other hand, we also see trainers try to dismiss the potential depth of connection between dog and owner in favor of a more robotic or negative view of our pets. I personally think the healthiest approach is one in between!

Books mentioned:

• For the Love of a Dog by Patricia McConnell (the first I read this past week)


• Dog Sense by John Bradshaw (the second I read this past week)


• Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are by Frans de Waal (I just can't stop talking about this one!)


• Dog is Love by Clive Wynne (apparently I also can't stop talking about this one...)

Some related blog articles:

• Does My Dog Want to Please Me? Yes and No


• Pros & Cons of Thinking About My Dog as a Human Friend


• What Advocating For My Dog Means & Why It Matters (the first part of this talks about honoring my dog as a canine)


• Imagining My Dog’s “Umwelt” Helps Us Grow as a Team (all about trying to understand how Scout experiences the world)

Sean and Haley talk about dog sports, inspired by a thoughtful friend's question of if not participating in them has ever been at all uncomfortable as a voice in the online dog community (or if we've ever been made to feel weird by others in the space).

We discuss why we don't do organized dog sports with Scout (just personal preference and lifestyle!), whether or not we are "against" them (absolutely not!), some things we've observed about different dog sports communities as outsiders (many awesome merits and a few potential cons), and a few overall reflections about being on social media (like how easy it is for content to be perceived in ways differently than the author intends and how much I care about nuance).

Sean and Haley sit down to chat through some dog ownership myths and generalizations that have personally affected life with Scout. I've felt a lot of internal conflict on different topics, especially in my first year with her — and across-the-board, contradictory statements from different trainers and friends and family members fueled much of that turmoil.

We talk about:

• The false idea that "good dogs have to love other dogs and people"


• It's not "all in how you raise them" and the nuance of nature & nurture working together


• How rehoming is sometimes the best option for everyone involved


• Potentially hurtful statements like "your dog won’t have behavioral problems if.... you’re a good enough leader, they trust you, etc" that put all the onus on us humans (who are trying our best and already feel plenty overwhelmed & insecure)


• Similarly, advice like "if you’re calm your dog will be calm" and variations of "just don’t make a big deal out of things"


• The classic dogs on the furniture debate and a bit about our understanding of dominance


• That "you shouldn’t comfort your dog when they’re scared"


• If taking our dogs on a daily walk is the end all be all and generalizations about exercise

Some related links and references:

• One of our first blogs, asking why your dog needs to do... well, anything


• Blog on how we set impactful goals with Scout


• It's all in how you raise them blog


• Ian Dunbar on the TWC podcast (and our running list of podcast notes)


• Puppies born ready to interpret human signals


• Blog on the balance between advocating for vs babying my dog


• Our personal dogs on the furniture rules


• Books I recommend to dog owners (we specifically mention Dog is Love by Clive Wynne and Frans de Waal's works)


• David Mech dominance articles (I pronounce his name wrong twice in this episode — my apologies! I was quite embarrassed when I realized. That's what I get for primary learning through written works. Oops. But the points about his works still stand.)


• Human control of resources / automatic dominance over dogs