Sometimes We Are Like Dogs Chasing Cars

When I first moved from Nigeria to Texas five years ago, I lived in an apartment in the poorer part of town, just a place to lay my head at night. As a migrant student, the priority was making every dollar count.

Elgin and 1st all the way to 4th Street was a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood. But the thing that struck me was the sheer number of stray dogs roaming the neighborhood.

Each time I drove by on my way home, those jolly dogs greeted me with their loud, happy barks. You could not help but feel welcome.

One particular dog was the star of the show. I will call her Phebe. I am actually not sure if it was male or female, but it looked like a Phebe.

Phebe was one of those smaller breeds with lots of fur, always loitering in front of the small house with a white fence. She was feeble and unkempt, like a wind could blow her over. But to hell with the wind, Phebe did not have a single care in the world. She was as confident as she was loud. And each time I drove past the run down house, Phebe would bark at the top of her lungs while chasing my car for as long as she could.

I enjoyed watching Phebe from the rearview mirror each time. She would chase for a while, panting, eyes lit up like the light of a thousand suns. And when it dawned on her that the car was too far gone, she would stop and turn around.

Perhaps she got her fill of the thrill, or maybe she saw the futility of the chase. I do not know, because each time I drove by that house, Phebe put up the same show. Bark, chase, bark, chase, turn around.

As time passed, I found myself starting to look forward to Phebe’s chase.

One evening, on my way back from school, out of curiosity I wanted to know what Phebe would do if I slowed down and let her catch up. My curiosity always gets the better of me.

That day, as I approached the house, there was Phebe, chasing, eyes lit up, barking, panting. I slowed down about 6 to 10 feet in front of her. Enough for her to catch up. And what did Phebe do?

She screeched to a halt beside my car, still barking. I could have sworn there was a look of surprise on her face, kinda like a kid who asked for a candy but got handed a whole box.

Eventually she stopped barking, stood and stared at the car for a few seconds, then turned around and trotted away.

All of that vigor, and there was nothing more to the chase.

…..

Sometimes we are like dogs chasing cars. Sometimes we are the car being chased. A double edged sword.

Chasing or being chased, the thrill of a new adventure is fun. Careers, goals, relationships, ideas. There is always a shiny new thing to chase.

Sometimes we chase something because we want it. Often we chase it because that is what we are supposed to do. Either way, we humans will always crave new things, or want the same old things in a new way.

And so we lean into the thrill. Like dogs chasing cars, we fail to consider what happens when we catch it.

Can we even drive this thing? Do we even know what this is? Is this currently the best use of our time, attention, energy, resources, and emotions?

And if we find ourselves the object of a chase, in all of its thrills and excitement, it helps to stop and consider that dogs chase cars too.

That even if a dog catches a car, it would not know what to do with it.