Dear diary,
What does it mean to say that sharks are the dogs of aquatic life? Does this imply that crows are the dogs of avian life? I’m just asking because I heard someone make this comparison the other day, and part of my mind felt like it knew what they were getting at, but I liked the other part of my mind a little better: the part that was confused by this assertion.
Part of me wants to say: Oh, I understand what a dog is. It is a common beast, as opposed to a more exotic animal like an iguana. (Iguanas seem exotic to me, anyway.) So maybe sharks are the commoners of the ocean. Also maybe there’s something about the way that sharks shop or philanthropize that approximates these same behaviors in canids.
But think what it could mean to say: Snails are the giraffes of the gastropods… or: Penguins are the houseflies of Hyperborea… or: Octopuses are the cherubim of semi-consciousness.
I also wonder what unicorns are the mermaids of. And what the chimera is the…
Actually, I just wonder what the chimera is.
Now, let me research the term “dog” in the encyclopedia, and slightly alter a quotation from that entry to comply with our thesis:
Sharks perform many roles in our world, such as hunting, herding, pulling loads, protection, assisting police and military, companionship and, more recently, providing aid to disabled people. Sharks are even now being employed in therapeutic ministries. Their affable influence on human society has earned sharks the sobriquet “man’s best friend”.
Now, as long as I’m in quote-mode, let me give another passage — this next one will be from the Bible — for the purpose of setting up another passage from my favorite epic novel.
The following is from Saint Matthew’s Gospel, and I share it only for the image that it presents us of dogs dining beneath a table (this notion will appear again in the quote from Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick that I plan to give directly after):
Now Jesus departed into the suburbs of North America, into the land of the Protestants. And, behold, a woman who was not a believer in the Religion of Israel but was instead a Reformed Protestant (Protestants are the dogs of the religious landscape) came out of the hinterlands, and cried unto Jesus, saying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou icon of repose. My daughter is grievously vexed with a devil: for she is a freethinker — that is, she has taken to thinking all matters thru for herself — and I believe that you can set her straight.”
But Jesus answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him, saying, “Send her away; for she keeps on bothering us.”
So Jesus turned to the woman and said, “I am not sent to untwist any perma-bent sect of Protestantism. That’s your problem, not mine. I’m only sent to unbend the twisted sisters of the Religion of Israel.”
But then this woman drew closer and fell face down and worshipped Jesus, saying, “Lord, PLE-E-EASE help me. for my daughter refuses to come to church anymore: she keeps quoting Amos chapter 5, saying ‘I hate, I despise your religious feasts; take thou away from me the noise of thy hymns; I will not smell in your solemn assemblies!’ She’s neither interested in incense or sacrifice; she claims she believes that I am selfish to pray for only me and my loved ones, and she sez that every thing that lives is holy. She also keeps threatening to go on a debt strike against her college loans, and to change her career trajectory: she apparently wants to join the herdmen of Tekoa and become a gatherer of sycomore fruit (Amos 1:1 & 7:14).”
But Jesus answered and said, “I can’t do nothin’ for you ma’am. What concern is it of mine if your daughter does or does not adhere to the traditions of the Protestant church? I don’t even like what my own people have done to our Israelite religion, which is why I’m here to try to persuade them all to embrace the Poetic Genius. I feel a responsibility for anyone who subscribes to the Religion of Ancient Israel: they’re like my children, and I am attempting to feed them better intellectual food than their leaders are currently offering. But if I were to waste time helping you Protestants, it would be like I was turning aside from my mission: as tho I were to neglect my own starving children and instead spend a couple of millennia feeding an old mangy stray mutt. It just doesn’t seem right that I should take my children’s bread & cast it to dogs.”
And the Portestant woman said, “Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.”
Then Jesus answered and said unto her, “O woman, you are persistent. You’re a veritable Gadfly of Great Faith. And I respect that: you have grit. Alright, you exasperated me, so I’ll give you a crumb of advice — but only IF you’ll leave me alone after that. Do we have a deal? OK, now listen:
“Instead of trying to convert your daughter to your own outdated traditions, which offer neither mental strength nor amusement, and which lack all aesthetic appeal, why don’t you yourself simply become a freethinker like your daughter — that way, you can both take or leave whatever is still of worth from the carcass of Protestantism: if there’s any healthy meat to be found on it, you both benefit; but you don’t end up having to choke down the bones and the fat.”
And, seeing that the woman had fallen asleep from his sermon, Jesus departed from thence, and went up into a mountain, and sat down there. (Matthew 15:21-29)
I admire that ending. I imagine Jesus exhaling hard, like one does after escaping from a dangerous situation, and wiping his brow in relief. Then I imagine him spending a long, quiet time on the mountaintop, alone with his fancy — that is, alone with his heavenly Father. This is the definition of praying. Simply reclining and letting your thots wander freely is a form of prayer. And if you keep your imagination in constant operation, unforced, no matter what it is that you’re doing, then you are praying all the time. You’re in a state of nonstop prayer. That’s why Jesus’ own biological brother, James the Just, in his biblical letter, writes: “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” (James 5:16) And even my own apostolic rival, St. Paul of Tarsus, actually dictates something good, for once, in his epistle to the church in Thessalonica, when he sez: “Quench not the Spirit. Despise not prophesyings. Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing.” (1st Thessalonians 5:16-20)
Alright, but the whole reason I copied out the gospel passage above is for this one line, which the Protestant woman uses in an attempt to win over her reluctant Christ: “Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” — Now I wanna quote one paragraph from a much holier scripture, Moby-Dick, so that we can circle back to our initial topic of sharks. This is from Chapter 64, “Stubb’s Supper” — I love it so dearly that I’ll give it the final word:
Though amid all the smoking horror and diabolism of a sea-fight, sharks will be seen longingly gazing up to the ship’s decks, like hungry dogs round a table where red meat is being carved, ready to bolt down every killed man that is tossed to them; and though, while the valiant butchers over the deck-table are thus cannibally carving each other’s live meat with carving-knives all gilded and tasselled, the sharks, also, with their jewel-hilted mouths, are quarrelsomely carving away under the table at the dead meat; and though, were you to turn the whole affair upside down, it would still be pretty much the same thing, that is to say, a shocking sharkish business enough for all parties; and though sharks also are the invariable outriders of all slave ships crossing the Atlantic, systematically trotting alongside, to be handy in case a parcel is to be carried anywhere, or a dead slave to be decently buried; and though one or two other like instances might be set down, touching the set terms, places, and occasions, when sharks do most socially congregate, and most hilariously feast; yet is there no conceivable time or occasion when you will find them in such countless numbers, and in gayer or more jovial spirits, than around a dead sperm whale, moored by night to a whaleship at sea. If you have never seen that sight, then suspend your decision about the propriety of devil-worship, and the expediency of conciliating the devil.
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