The Eyes Have It

2/21/04 8:34 PM

The Eyes Have It

Kaitlyn,

Your Mom sends me digital pictures at least once a week.
For which I am grateful because I live quite far from your parents right now and do not get to see you in person nearly enough.

Two of the more recent pictures have you sitting in your baby seat with balloons affixed somewhere on your person. The narrative in your Mom’s email describes how, when the balloon was tied to your leg, you quickly learned to move your foot to make the balloon float all about. Your eyes then follow what has to be a fascinating object to your two-month-old self. It’s the same thing when your Mom ties the balloon to your hand, only your Mom says you have more freedom of movement like this. Again your eyes follow the object as it floats above.

I ponder how nice it must be to first discover you have eyes and how they really come in handy. Since most of us don’t remember when we first really focused our eyeballs, I thought I’d remark on the intrigue of such a thing, albeit vicariously.

While I don’t remember when I first began to use my own eyes, I’ve certainly had fun watching you start using yours.

In another picture your Mom sent, your Dad was leaning over you, singing, or so your Mom explains. He is slightly to your right and so are your eyeballs. All the way to the right, I mean. All the way to the right because you were looking directly at your father and your eyeballs had to go that way to see him. It is a most intriguing picture, your eyes so obviously focused on your father. You weren’t even two months old but the eyeballs knew what they had to do.

Eyes can do amazing things, Kaitlyn, and I’m going to relate the story of my dachshund and his Rasputin eyes but understand that his talent and use of same also very much applies to humans.

Cleetus is his name and due to an assortment of very unusual circumstances he is forced to live with another dog roughly four times his size. The poor little thing is out-maneuvered, out-weighed and out-manipulated in all things from access to human pettings to food treats.

Then Cleetus learned to use his eyes.

It’s the most amazing thing, Kaitlyn, and until you’ve seen a dog forcefully make another dog do its bidding by the sheer power of its eyes then you might not believe this missive.

For Cleetus can make his eyes bug out and effect a stare that scares even me. He then stands “toe-to-toe” with Jo-Ann though I use that description liberally. Cleetus’ toes might be even with Jo-Ann’s but his eyes are situated at about the level of Jo-Ann’s knee-caps when they stand side to side. Still, Cleetus will raise his head, bug out his eyes and stare with the force of Rasputin directly into Jo-Ann’s. Cleetus then begins to slowly move forward, never moving his eyes from Jo-Ann’s face. She, for whatever reason, backs off in step to Cleetus’ forward movements.

If Cleetus doesn’t want Jo-Ann in the kitchen he will simply perform the infamous eye maneuver and back the big dog out. The logic being, Kaitlyn, that any dropped food or spontaneous treats then fall to Cleetus as Jo-Ann has been “eyeballed” out of the surround.

Jo-Ann doesn’t like this treatment, understand, and she often complains about it. She will emit a disgruntled growl that over time we humans have figured out is the canine equivalent of “Mom, he’s looking at me”.

Us humans do go to great lengths to insure a form of equality between the mismatched dogs. But we simply are unable to stop Cleetus from “looking” at Jo-Ann. In fact, we’ve taken to laughing about it despite Jo-Ann’s obvious distress. Cleetus has figured out an effective use of his eyeballs and evidently it intimidates Jo-Ann, the big Belgian shepherd.

“We can’t cut out his eyeballs,” I would tell Billy when he fretted about Cleetus’ insane stare and how it causes Jo-Ann such stress. “Jo-Ann will have to learn to deal with Cleetus’ eyes on her own I’m afraid,” I’d conclude to common sense.

So Kaitlyn I love that picture of your eyes going to the right to see your father as he sings to you. Even when you were a newborn I would whisper in your ear and marvel as your still unfocused eyes would veer towards the sound.

Frankly I think humans could learn a lot from Cleetus’ eye methodology but, alas, such as a forceful stare from one human to another is considered bad manners in human society. Also, too many humans are afraid to use their eyes with any effect. Me included. But when the going gets tough and I’ve been tail-gated by an idiot for the past ten miles, I’m not above looking over and giving a Cleetus stare to the nitwit when he is finally in my eye range at a stop light. Not that such idiots have a clue as to why I am staring at them and they often give me the finger right back.

The stare works is what I’m saying here, Kaitlyn. May you always use those beautiful eyes to such wonderful effect Kaitlyn and may you someday learn the art of the piercing stare.