My dog has these small round spots above both his eyes, just slightly inward. They’re white and they’re bright against his otherwise dark hair, almost like a second set of eyes. 

According to the stupid internet, in the animal kingdom fake eye spots are called ocelli. A second google search tells me on insects they are natural markings that mimic the appearance of vertebrate eyes. Animals use these optical illusions primarily for survival—either to deter predators by feigning danger, to redirect attacks toward less vulnerable body parts, or to hide themselves. I also learned tigers have spots on the back of their ears they flash like emojis to communicate their mood and intentions to other tigers. And so nobody fucks with them from behind. And to give their cubs a beacon to follow in the thick jungle darkness. Dang, tigers, you’re pretty cool. I kinda assumed (I mean look at you), but dang. 

Also, AI is summarizing its “facts” from Facebook.
DaNGeR! CaUTIoN! WaRNiNG!

That’s how I knew Freddie was badass before his on-the-spectrum godlike presence confirmed it. He descends from a long line of naturally selected canines. You know, before humans started over (and in) breeding dogs for their own pleasure with hypoallergenic hair and smooshed faces and squatty legs too short for their bodies to make sense. If humans go extinct, “purebreds” are sure to follow. And probably cows. Such easy prey. ^{_{(Did you know wild cows used to be badass too? Not sure if that’s better or worse than what we did to the pigeons – befriending and using them to deliver our messages until more “advanced” technology replaced them and we kicked them to the curb, called them a nuisance. Humans are the worst.)}} Without us they’d have no purpose because we’ve made serving us their only purpose. But the Fred’s of the world? The badass hustlers + scavengers with fake eyes? They’ll carry on the species. 

These evolutionary eye spots are apparently called pips in dogs, and help pack animals communicate as they accentuate the dog’s facial expressions and eyebrow movements. Can confirm, Fred’s face narrates a story all damn day. He’s mostly actively judging the human species as a whole and I’ve learned to take my cues from him. I’ve caught him more than once intensely staring me down while he’s sleeping. What is this dog? Curious on the recipe for The Most Neurotic Best Smartest Most Beautiful Judgmental Dog in the World, years ago I swabbed Fred’s mouth and sent in his DNA. Sorry Fred, you’re in the system now. 37.5% came back “undetected” breed to which I immediately concluded his lineage went so far back, he’s basically original D.O.G. A member of the Royal Dog Family. 

Evolutionary traits. Survival of the fittest. With human modified genetics and our propensity to destroy our only natural habitat, Darwin hits different these days. Can you imagine what sort of features our magical vessels are tweaking as we speak, just to survive n’ thrive in an environment in which the regime is moving to weaken federal protections against toxic forever chemicals in drinking water while millions of Americans are already drinking PFAS-contaminated water linked to cancer, immune suppression, liver damage, pregnancy complications, developmental harm in children, and reduced vaccine response.*

How are we mutating just to exist in an environment where the US Forest Service is spraying glyphosate (aka Roundup) in California’s National Forests in increasingly alarming amounts? The PCT passes over a dozen of these forest, hikers (+me) rely on the water sources within for survival. WATER IS LIFE. And the only reason we even know about California is because state requirements for herbicide application are incredibly strict. Who knows how spray happy other states are.

Oh cool. And I dunno, I feel like everyone should be a bit wary when companies (Monsanto, acquired by Bayer) who make a product also “orchestrate, finance, and ghostwrite studies published in peer-reviewed scientific journals under the names of supposedly independent researchers – papers that state and federal agencies have relied upon to justify copious spraying of Roundup.”

What kinda of toxicity will the human body adapt to in places that lifted a 20-year federal moratorium on mining in the Rainy River watershed just to clear the way for a Chilean mining company to begin applying for permits on the doorstep of the pristine Boundary Water Canoe Area, with absolutely no economic benefit to the people of the United States? And where a chemical plant at risk of exploding recently evacuated 60k+ Californians from their Garden Grove homes, a place I’m only familiar with because of that Sublime song? Apparently residents weren’t even aware the plant was using toxic methyl methacrylate, and are questioning why it was ever allowed to operate in a densely populated neighborhood. And hard to ignore all those “data centers” raping the earth of her raw natural goods, leaving the surrounding communities to deal with the consequences. AKA, You + Me.

We’re the only species idiotic enough to spray our food with toxic chemicals (synthetic herbicide, pesticide, fungicides) so other critters don’t eat it, just to turn around and eat it ourselves. I walk through the grocery store these days and all I see is poison patiently sitting on the shelf, ready to kill me. Aisles and aisles of poison. Total head scratcher why young people are being diagnosed with all these cancers at such an alarming rate with all this venomous poison running through our veins. Poison in the water. Poison in the food. Poison in the air. Poison woven into the fabrics of our lives. We’re swimming in poison.

But like, at some point…we gotta adapt to this, right? I gotta imagine human DNA is slowly adjusting to this toxic planet. Maybe some of us are unknowingly becoming like Wesley in The Princess Bride during the battle of wits with Vizzini when Wesley poisons both wine goblets with the (fictitious) Iocaine powder and asks Vizzini to choose which one has the poison. Odorless, tasteless, deadly. Both drink their poisoned glass, except surprise! Wesley doesn’t die because he spent years ingesting trace amounts over time to build up immunity just to be able to pull that shit off. Inconceivable. 

What I’m saying is maybe WE are the aliens. They are future Us**. Maybe we’ve been ingesting these manmade toxic chemicals since the beginning of Capitalism and eventually mutated to look like whatever they look like, based on what we did to our own planet. How our bodies were forced to adapt. What our manmade environment naturally selected for us, no doubt mixed with a little artificial selection the 1% paid an astronomical fee to pump into their offspring. Designer children.

Maybe our skin turned green from the nuclear radiation. Maybe our heads grew bigger to accommodate the mini surveillance centers planted in our brains. Maybe we’re tall and thin like Gumby because we’ve stopped using our bodies; machines do everything for us now. Or everyone’s on Ozempic and that’s the long term effect. I mean, my dog literally grew a second tail a few years ago. We’re both grateful his froo-froo fan disguised the icky growth that eventually just fell off. Maybe it was his way of processing the poison, getting it out of him. Original D.O.G style.

I don’t know man. Fred might not be impressed by humans, but I’m starting to see this deep resilience in the average Joe. Shit keeps splashing us in the face, and still we find a way to smile. I marveled watching Minneapolis rally under occupation. Folks continuing to carry on activities of daily living, cuz shit still needs to get done even if the world is falling apart. Just like every community that gets their 15 minutes of unfortunate fame in the news cycle for some natural disaster or another, but spend years picking up the pieces of devastation. Tornadoes. Fires. Hurricanes. Asheville after the flood. Did you even know wild fires burned a million Great Plains acres this year, 800,000 acres in Nebraska alone? And that they closed HWY 61 on the Northshore of Lake Superior as flames ripped through the forest a few weeks ago? As these communities quickly learn, no one is coming to help. Look around. WE are the help. Your neighbors. Me + You.

Maybe that’s why Gen Pop isn’t all out revolting in the streets right now as people have to choose between feeding their kids or themselves while the President throws away $60 million to produce a UFC fight on the White House front lawn for his birthday. People have been swimming upstream, treading water so long, survival machine mode autoenabled. And when the world gets so dark that humor takes the shape of mama tiger’s fake eye spots, you begin to understand how joy is the resistance. 

Before my next door neighbors moved, Fred used to have free rein of their double lot fenced in yard. He still begs to go out there, you try explaining with body language and facial expressions the yard he patrolled his entire life with me is no longer an option, especially when it’s clearly still there. In fact, “outside” to him used to mean David’s yard. He’s logged a lot of hours over there, sniffing the smells, chasing the bunnies, digging the same three holes.

In his latter years he started doing this weird thing at night. I’d go to the fence, whistle for him to come and he’d bound from somewhere in the darkness before stopping abruptly before the big open square space between me and him. Sometimes he’d veer right, sometimes left, choosing to walk the perimeter of the yard, instead of taking the most direct path through the center. Other times he’d stop with a leg lifted, back up, make these awkward little turns, dodging invisible foes or sidestepping landmines or tiptoeing around a giant portal in the middle. It was the strangest thing to witness. The first time, I remember thinking ooo boy, he’s really off his rocker tonight. After the third time I started wondering what Freddie saw with his four eyes.

On my ocelli information quest, I also learned ancient herders in Mongolian and Tibet believed those fake eyes on dogs meant they had advanced eyesight in the dark, so advanced they could even see the spirit world. OoOoo. So that’s what I choose to believe. It’s the coolest option and it’s obviously true: AI Overview got it from Facebook.

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

_{*Judith Dayal does an excellent job keeping up with all the hoopla in her consumable essays, she unapologetically uses the word fuck a lot and I like that. Highly recommend.}

_{**Apparently I first had this thought real-time while processing listening to all my dad’s old records in Girl Put Your Records On, Tell me Your Favorite Song, November 20, 2023} . _{Time really is a flat circle.}