 Lessons Learned From the Other End Of the Leash About Licking, Sniffing, Wagging, Petting, and Howling During my life, I have engaged in silent wars, usually with people I love. I am not proud of these deafening silences. When I was small, it was classified as pouting, complete with curled lip that my mother would observe could be a perch for a bird – likely a Dodo bird. With puberty, these pauses were purposeful, as I understood the truths of Mark Twain, who wrote ‚“When I was six years old I knew half as much as my father, when I was sixteen years old, my father knew half as much as me, and when I was 26 years old, I was amazed how much he had learned in 10 years.” Unfortunately, in this march to maturity, there are stumbles into the abyss of silence, either by choice or by familiarity. Declaring silent war on someone is stressful and requires enormous negative energy consumption. It is a brownout of badness, leaving family and friends in the dark. Often a simple “I’m sorry” can provide the enlightenment that life is too short for this rectitude of quietude. The silence of familiarity is frightening. This is where people who are bonded by marriage, family or friendship live in two solitudes. The nest is empty, getting lucky refers to a good parking space at the grocery store, and dinner table conversation is reduced to four topics; kids, work, relatives, and money with a dazzling dialogue of “yes‚” “no‚” “it’s your mother.” Sadly, at social functions, superficial speaking with strangers is significant. Weather is well discussed with emphasis on the obvious. It is hot, cold, raining, windy, etc‚…. Weather words communicate other issues also beyond the individual's influence. The political winds are shifting due to the flood of concern regarding the snow job revealed by recent sunshine legislation. The discourse done, the couple whose intercourse has created families and built a home gets in their car and goes home without saying a word. Upon arrival at the capital gain tax-free property, they sit reading the paper or watching the television wordless until bedtime. The pilgrimage to the pillow reflects the downfall of the King and Queen beds to the twin beds of a single sleep situation. The switch of safe sex being a padded headboard to a sound sleep being sans spousal snoring. Any fondling is reduced to fumbling with the heating thermostat because depending on hormones and blood viscosity, the house is too hot, too cold, but unlike porridge, never just right for the grumpy bears going to bed. A few years ago, during a declaration of silent war over some trivial twisted word or deed with a person who would be included in my obituary, I stormed home. My blood pressure was soaring and my inner voice roaring. I opened the front door of my house. I was greeted by my dog. He was happy to see me – in fact, he was always happy to see me, no matter how many times he saw me. If I growled about his jumping up, he flattened his ears for forgiveness. His wagging tail, licking tongue and playful paws appreciated the slightest touch, while his eyes conveyed an appreciation of my abilities to bear thumbs. Unlike the thumbearers in my life, my dog did not have superman expectations for me to jump buildings, race speeding trains, or stop bullets, but rather hold a leash, go for a walk, and stop and scoop his poop. Unlike the two-leggers, these four-leggers are housebroken in 12 weeks, don’t care if the peas have been touched by the mashed potatoes and never resist nap time. They are wonderful listeners who never say a word. An occasional bark, belch, or break wind are their contributions to the conversation. When meeting another dog, they give a good sniff to the tailgate. It’s a place without pretension or perfume. The intestinal investigation determines the fiber of the future friend or foe. The tale of tail tells if the dog has been happily racing their leash holder down the stairs or unhappily dragging its rear end on the carpet. As I stood at the door, my blood pressure pounded to a point of long term disability because of my short term silent non-sensibility. If I paused and gave myself a good sniff (dogs lick themselves because they can), I might determine not my heart or brains but rather my bowels have me say dumb things, mean things, or hurtful things. Rather than silence, I need to say some “I’m sorry’s,” “Thank you’s‚” and “I love you’s‚” I need to give and get some sloppy kisses, flatten my ears for forgiveness and race down the stairs to have a good walk. It was at this moment I realized I had never gone home and not talked to the dog. I always asked him how his day had gone, whether he had guarded the house well, did he want to go outside, did he want some water, would he like me to pet him. What if I said those same sentiments to the significant others in my life? The people who don’t drink from the toilet but pout about the position of the seat. “Hello honey! How’s your day? How was work? Would you like to go out? Would you like a drink? Would you like me to pet you?” Then I would jump around, do a little jig, wag my tail and give a good kiss that required a tissue to wipe off a little spittle. Remember, we call them pets, not lookers or standers, but a derivative of the verb to pet, as in touch. Medical studies have documented petting a dog lowers blood pressure and anxiety. Perhaps petting people produces the same outcome – it’s worth a try. Who knows, maybe it will kindle a puppy love where the single twin bed is big enough to cuddle after a good walk. The British author, Edward Hoagland understood this concept when he wrote‚ “In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn’t merely try to train him to be semi-human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of partly becoming a dog.” Meanwhile my goal in life is to be as good a person as my dog already believes me to be by following his example of being a best friend to those I love and live with. written by Gerry Lougheed, Jr. (Published here with permission from the author, from the August 2007 Volume 15, Issue 03 of South Side Story newspaper in Sudbury, Ontario, Canada) |
