This morning I walked my son to his school. Our house is right across the school, 5 minutes walk. Autumn weather is not quite cold yet. Nice and crispy wind.
When I left his classroom and walked back to our house, I passed by the
school's soceer field. The grass was very green with a bit mountain dews.
Several parents stood there chatting. Two young dogs were let loose. Both were
widely running on the grass. Mostly they ran their own, seemingly random routes.
Sometimes they dashed across the middle of the field. Sometimes they jogged
along the metal fence surrounding the field. I had not watched live animals
running in such high, vivid spirit. So I stopped, leaned on the fence from the
outside, to watch.
Now they dashed from two totally different directions and converged, almost
looked like coliding into each other, right in front of me. Then the magic
happened. The two simultaneously jumped in the mid air, about one foot off the
ground, as if there were invisble reign pulling them backwards. They raised to
the same height in the air, lining up their noses in the mid air at exactly the
same horizontal level, briefly stared into each other for a split second. Rubbed
their noses, barely. Then dropped, like silk, back to the ground, resuming their
respective NFL wide-out like routes.
The image of that mid-air nose leveling lingers in the my mind: how come two
dogs can make out like that? Assume this is not a godhand. What is going on? If
this is a best-prediction moment, is it predictable at all? Where is the degree
to which we need to learn to stop squeezing the residuals and pay homage to