“Aussie, I’m going down to Springfield with Lori to see the doctor. Kwan-yin, Ms. Compassion, with her many hands, is taking care of everything. I’m the hand that drives Lori down. You’re the hand that takes care of the house.”

“I don’t want to be the hand that takes care of the house. I want to be the hand that jumps into the car and farts in the back seat.”

“You can’t be that hand, Aussie.”

“How about the Kwan-yin hand that chases the car down the road?”

“Nope.”

“The hand that snores on the back seat of the car? I don’t want to be the hand that stays and protects the house and Henry. Come to think of it, I don’t want to be any of Kwan-yin’s many hands.”

“You have no choice, Aussie.”

“Of course I have a choice. I’m an American dog, we always have choices! By the way, from now on I’m calling you Hoky, as in Hand of Kwan-yin.”

“Listen, Auss. On the eve of the Jewish New Year I wrote about how I want to create a healing environment. You know what I realized right afterwards, Auss? That we live in such a healing space already. Compassion is everywhere; that’s why I thank Kwan-yin every morning with bows, words, and incense.”

“Hoky, have you taken a look at the world recently? Hurricanes in the south, melting glaciers, terrible famines. You call this a space of compassion? We’re all going to die, including us canines, because of what you humans do.”

“I know, but Aussie—”

“And look at the Middle East, Hoky. Everything is exploding there—and I mean that literally.”

“But Aussie—”

“And look here at home, where nobody gets along with anybody else. Everybody is angry and bitter and afraid. What healing space are you talking about?”

“Aussie, our conditioning and ideas prevent us from experiencing this healing space.”

“Can I interrupt for something important? Can I smell your anus, Aussie?”

“Sure, Illegal, be my guest.”

“You see, Aussie, there’s an example for you. You and Henry the Illegal Chihuahua can smell each other’s anuses and find them interesting.”

“Interesting! They’re our encyclopedias! Do you know how much information we get from them? It’s limitless. If you smelled anuses, you wouldn’t need Google. Wanna smell mine?”

“Not particularly.”

“I don’t smell yours on account of those big cheeks covering it.”

“That’s my point, Aussie. Humans don’t smell anuses or poop because we don’t depend so much on our sense of smell. You and Henry, on the other hand, depend on it more than on any other sense for your information, so you’ll smell almost anything and everything. Your sense of smell is way greater than ours, which enables you to get all this information. We get different information because we depend more on other senses.”

“Also on Google.”

“Our senses, bodies, and interactions are all specific to us, they can’t tell us what life is really. Life is basically unknowable by you and us.”

“It’s a mess! It’s anarchy! Nothing’s under control! That’s why we need Donald.”

“It’s true that some people think life is crazy because it’s unknowable. But there’s one thing I’m sure of, Auss.”

“What’s that, Hoky?”

“We’re all interdependent. We’re all expressions of one thing, which isn’t really a thing per se. So I don’t call it a mess, I call it a space of compassion because, whether we realize it or not, we function as one, not just as the many different selves we think we are.”

“If I kill the Illegal Chihuahua, is that functioning as one, Hoky?”

“I prefer you don’t do that, Auss. I love Henry, he’s part of our family and home. But we lose those we love, violence can hit at any time, look at what happened to Lori. Sometimes people hate us for reasons that seem reasonable to them and crazy to us. I have feelings and opinions about that like everybody else. Not to mention that we kill things in order to live. Billions of our cells die or are attacked or consumed every day, just like the planets, stars, and galaxies. But the One Body functions as one. That’s what I call the space of compassion. Kwan-yin is always at work.”

“So is everything compassion, Senora?”

“In some way, sí, Henry. But I try to live according to my understanding of it, which means to minimize killing and hurting, minimize suffering. I want to be the hand of Kwan-yin that drives Lori to Springfield, and you be the hand that stays here and protects the house.”

“Can I be her paw, Señora?”

“Be a good paw and get me a treat, Illegal. I’ll call you Poky. Hee hee hee!”