Hermes in the Anthropocene: A dogologue

Abstract

In this dogologue, a writer and the dog who sits near her desk as she works speak. The dog is concerned about the fate of the world in the hands of humans. His urgent questions send the writer into the world of her own memories when she was a child alone with a horse in nature. Karen Malpede kmalpede@jjay.cuny.edu, ecofeminist playwright, is author of 17 fulllength produced plays, most recently, Extreme Whether,” about climate change. She is cofounder of Theater Three Collaborative and adjunct professor of Theater and Environmental Studies at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, City University of New York. Hermes is a ten-year-old merle, though mainly black, cocker spaniel. He has always spoken and his human companion, a writer, has always voiced his words and answered him back. http://www.jjay.cuny.edu/faculty/karen-malpede I was in conversation with my dog, Hermes. He lay on the floor next to my desk. “Kawhren,” Herm said. He has trouble with “r” sounds and speaks with a slight accent that must be cocker spaniel. “Why cannot people, undewhrstrand?” “I don’t know, Herm,” I said. I find I often answer his questions this way. He returned to gently licking his left paw, then asked: “Do you rwhemembwer the days of yowre?” “Herm, whatever are you talking about?” “The days of yoehre, Kawhren. (pause) Befowre ...” He turned to grooming his right paw. Hermes has huge feet of which he is quite proud. Finished grooming himself, he stretched and did upward and downward dog on the rug, wagging his tale in recognition of his perfect form. Then he looked up at me. “When you was young.” He said. “Oh, yes, I do remember, Hermes,” I said. “I used to ride my bicycle down streets lined with old elms whose branches touched forming a canopy above my head. That was before Dutch Elm disease.” “Why would anyone hurt a twree?” Hermes asked, aghast. “You pee on trees,” I reminded him. “Big twrees, only, Kawhren, nevewhr pee on little twrees.” Hermes lay down; his two back legs splayed out, head on his paws, brown eyes wide open, contemplating what I’d said.