“Quantum.” That’s what we ought to have named little pup, Scooter Sublime. 

I dare not speak extensively about things I know little (nothing) about, but—hey, why not? Get this (and I will use parenthesis frequently to admit my ignorance):

Quanta: little, very little, packets of energy. If I understand at all, quanta are particles tucked inside protons and neutrons that are themselves tucked inside atoms that make up every-single-thing-we-see. Some seemingly less significant particles—ten or fewer with fascinating names—those “elementary excitations of moving substratum,” are, I don’t know, bouncing? Firing off? Or careening about, inside protons and neutrons, held by a force that glues them in place— a force that is (if I get it at all) generated by particles aptly named “gluons.”

Again, if I’m catching on at all, these little excitations, for the fun of it, are called “quarks.” If already you find yourself longing for something more tangible — abandon my mutterings now and look up: “Quark,” a noun, a type of low-fat curd cheese. 

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You know how sometimes a particular book or article, visual or audio program, coincides with whatever presently occupies your mind and time? So it is with my reading of Carlo Rovelli’s small book, “Seven Brief Lessons on Physics.” Concerning quanta, he writes:

“These unpredictable pulses of energy exist where “everything that exists is never stable, and is nothing but a jump from one interaction to another.” (pg.30)

SCOOTER!

An unpredictable pulse of energy — a jump from one interaction to another.” 

Yep. Scooter!

Energy. Not a thing in itself (if I’m capturing the concept), but rather, energy is an attribute of matter that can manifest itself in different ways—observable, measurable ways—but only as we see its effect on matter. Exactly. Hang on . . . This will make sense. Stay with me.

This week, Scooter is in Arizona with us. This nearly 16-weeks-old, ten pound miniature goldendoodle runs (observable and measurable) over rocks, through small, backyard gullies, wedges himself under bush branches, tugs at the tips of cacti, chases balls and empty plastic bottles, stops briefly to observe hummingbirds or airplanes up high, splashes through rain water captured in grooves of flagstone, and carries twigs with the pride of  a Roman general in a Triumphal procession. That’s the outside stuff. Inside, we romp with a variety of stuffed, squeaking, rolling, tugging, or mashable for-dogs-designed objects.

But, say physicists, we see energy “only as we see its effect on matter.” 

We, my husband and I, are the immediate matter affected. We are running, too. We are tossing the ball and the bottle. We are training the “elementary excitation” called Scooter. And let me tell you, he is worthy of his heritage. He learns quickly. He is poodle-smart and retriever-loving. He’s got the following words down pat: words for relieving himself (thanks, friend Ron, for “Scooter Pooder.” He does). No question, he rightly translates these words: Outside, Food, Water, Sit, Stay, Come, Free, Walk (well, he’s got “walk” but he also exercises free will), Retrieve, NO!, Crate, Release (dead leaves, newspaper shreds, his blanket from the crate, bath mat). He knows who “Dad” and “Mom” are, and will find them. He is gaining familiarity with “Down.” Treat? He’s got it. And, those he gets—sparingly.

There is such a thing as Negative Energy (I marvel). I don’t get it, but I will say this, since theology is my field: If you think the question, “Is there a God?” deserves respect, try “Is it true that the amount of energy in the universe is zero?”  Just saying. There are some valuable questions worth asking.

There is such a thing as Negative Energy but not when it comes to Scooter Sublime. Not when it comes to what he offers each morning when we approach his crate and we hear his tail thumping against crate walls, and we watch him lazily roll out once the door is opened, when his body, every part of this little packet of energy squirms love all over us, and his joy breaks the bonds of gluons and spreads itself into the universe. It’s a Quanta day, a new Scooter day.