Theories on dogs

The dog days of summer are here at last. My dad likes to jest that he wishes someone would treat him like a dog. Feed him, pet him, let him sleep all day, take him for walks, etc. Lately I've wondered what it would be like to be a dog. What makes them tick?

We often assume they're just simple little creatures, loyal to the end and generally good natured. But what if there's more to it? I mean, only a couple hundred years ago conquistadors and colonists and slave owners equated entire cultures with the simple mindedness of pets. Mostly as an excuse to treat human beings as sub-human, but still, it happened. So what if we're just ignoring a whole 'nother side of dogs? Just because we don't understand dog's behavior, does that mean we can regulated it to silliness?

For example, when it rains (even just a light pitter-patter) my dog nearly convulses into spasms with what I assume is fear. She slinks off to hide whenever we turn on the hose to water the plants or wash a car. She races off to capture some unseen villian in the night. She'll bark at all sorts of unknown sights and sounds. She hates crossing over the floor vents and gives them a wide berth when she's not crouching her way up to sniff at them. She'll only eat the food in the bowl that she wants and leave the rest for later. When she's upset (I think), she'll tip over her water bowl. She won't chew on anything in the house except paper in the bathroom trash cans (so gross). If you call her to you in an effort to put her in the pen or the house, she knows and won't come within three feet of your outstretched hands. She's as stubborn as all-get-out and will not do what she doesn't want to do until she's good and ready. Case in point: she will sit at the back door. You will go to it and open it. She will continue to sit there. Reach for her and she'll jump back. You close the door. She returns and sits right at it, staring at you. You repeat the process. Same result. You walk away. She stays. Later, you return and open the door. She waltzes right in. Everything is in her own time. Needless to say, I call her the princess.

A four year old that we sometimes babysit thinks it's crazy that I call a dog a princess when she's obviously not a tall blonde in a gown with a tiara. But after multiple explanations of her classic behavior and why it warrants the title of 'princess', he delights in calling my dog a princess. I imagine that he conjures up visions of my dog standing on her hind legs, wrapped in a glowing gown and walking down a path strewn with rose petals on her way to a ball or something.

She has very expressive eyes, don't you think? I knew this guy once who had very loud eyes. There was so much he wasn't articulating that his eyes were practically having a conversation with me. It was pretty spooky. But because my dog doesn't have the gift of speech, her eyes, her tail and her body language have to do all the talking. Therefore it's not as spooky as that guy who could talk, but just didn't. Needless to say, when someone isn't speaking in a direct manner there is a lot of miscommunication that can occur. I wonder how much of my dog's body-speech I misinterpret. I wonder what she sees in the dead of night that I can't. I wonder what she hears, and smells that we can't. You know how they say that dogs have acute sense that are like 10 times or 100 times better than ours? I'm always wondering what she knows that I don't. That, and how she can sleep 20 hours of the day. That is so rightous.