Talking To Our Dogs
Would Make Us Smarter...
If Only They Could Make Us Understand!
I came across a great novelty sign the other day. In bold letters it proclaimed, ”Don’t Let the Dog Out!” Then in smaller letters adds...“No Matter What He Says.” After several years of sharing our home with our dog Sophie, I’m more convinced than ever that, but for an opposable thumb, we’d be the ones wearing collars and using the outdoor facilities.
Like most pet owners, I find myself talking to our dog as if she understood every syllable. Ever catch yourself telling your dog when you’ll be home? I have. Things like, “We’ll be back in a couple of hours girl.” It would mean so much more if only we had bought her that nice wrist watch.
Dogs live in the present. That’s why they’re always happy to see us. It doesn’t matter if we’re gone an hour or a week, just that we’re back. It isn’t that dogs can’t tell time. Our dog can tell you when it’s three in the afternoon. That’s when she gets fed and you can set your watch by it. It’s simply that dogs aren’t slaves to time.
Tomorrow my schedule has something penciled in every hour. I haven’t checked Sophie’s palm pilot, but I’m guessing she’s not worried about running late to any appointments. Imagine being free from the constraint of time. Think back to the last time you didn’t worry about the passing hours. It was probably over summer vacation when you were a kid. Those lazy never ending summer days of youth. That’s the closest we come to knowing what a dog’s life is all about.
A few months ago, I was speaking with a seventy-eight year old man who grew up on a farm in West St. Louis County. Back then, it was still fields and woods as far as the eye could see. He was talking about his life, walking to the one room schoolhouse, and doing chores around the farm. Then he recalled one of his fondest memories and you could see his face light up. It was about exploring the woods around the farm with his dog when he was a boy. He talked about how they would make a pile of leaves and just lie there together, staring up through the trees. Maybe that’s why dogs and children get along so well. They like the same things.
Of course it’s hard to tell a dog they have to wait for something. When does a dog want to eat? Now! When does a dog want to go on a walk? Now! When does a dog want to play? Now! When does a dog want to go to the VET? Never! (Caught you)
I think the word “Veterinarian” shows just how smart dogs are. It’s the one word we don’t go out of our way to teach them, but it’s the one word they all seem to know. Sophie knows a lot of words, like sit, stay (her version of a rolling stop), treats, dinner, walk and, of course the complete sentence, do you want to go for a ride in the car. I don’t know of a dog yet that ever said no to being chauffeured around.
As cute as it is having dogs react to what we say, I think it’s a lot more fun observing how dogs try to communicate with their big “dumb” human companions. One night we were all in the living room talking and Sophie, perhaps feeling left out, broke into a series of guttural sounds that we swore was trying to mimic human speech. Later on I figured out she was just being sarcastic.
Sophie has different barks, as most dogs do, for when she wants to go out, remind us its dinner time or wake us early on a Sunday morning. But she also points at things she wants by facing her whole body towards them and hoping we’ll get it. She does it with her leash hanging on the back of the stairwell door. She stands there looking at it, then turns her head to look back at you as if to say, “What part of this don’t you get?”
Sophie is a brave dog, but she has one irrational fear. Sophie is scared to death of storms. Since we got her from the Humane Society, we aren’t sure what early experiences she had might be driving her storm phobia. She is far better than any radar at knowing when a storm is coming because instinct drives her to want to run upstairs and secure the high ground. We discourage that as her anxiety often drives her to shred whatever available bedding she comes in contact with.
In such times of crisis, Sophie feels the need to save the rest of us from the impending danger. Her frantic yelps and barks can be roughly translated as, “Save yourselves from the whirling vortex of doom!!!”
Thwarted from her original escape route and unable to make us comprehend the danger facing us, Sophie tries to make herself as small as possible to fit behind or beneath all manner of improbable furniture and fixtures. Despite her valiant effort, she usually succeeds in just hiding her head and shoulders. We do our best to hold her and comfort her till the storms pass; acts of kindness she no doubt equates with the band playing as the Titanic went down.
I was going to end this weeks column with something profound about the relationship between humans and their pets. Perhaps that it doesn’t take a lot of words, or even a common language, to understand the needs of others. Or that in helping others, whether man or dog, we help ourselves as well. Or perhaps that the closest we can come to those summers of our youth, and beating back the hands of time, is in a long walk with a faithful companion. I could be philosophical, but instead, I think I’ll just go walk the dog.
