Sophie

Canine Savagery

February 15, 2010 by John 9 Comments

They say we shouldn’t anthropomorphize animals. We shouldn’t project onto their behaviors human motivations, so goes the advice; maybe we could develop a Maslow’s pyramid for them without stretching too much, but it’d be a mistake to give them them an upper level labeled “self-actualization.”

Still, you know, it’s hard — almost impossible — not to at least ask questions about mysterious animal behavior. Why are they doing X?, What’s the survival or evolutionary value of Y?, and so on.

Given a red-rubber toy like the one shown here, and little crunchy treats wedged into the opening, a dog (they say) will of course attempt to get the treats out. The act of figuring it out, and then executing it, can occupy (they say) a dog’s mind for long blocks of time.

All this theory seems to work just fine with The Pooch in our household. What we can’t figure out is what, exactly, was the… hmm… the decision-making process which led to her particular solution. The solution goes something like this:

Bark madly in anticipation while toy and treat are being merged by human’s clever forepaws.
When toy is tossed onto the floor, launch yourself in its pursuit.
Attack toy by, uh, barking madly as you push at it with the side of your head.
Occasionally switch to dental-attack mode, until human expresses interest in toy.
When hapless human expresses interest, get toy immediately out of human reach.
Carry off toy’s lifeless (or at least deafened) corpse to somewhere safe, where it and the treat may be successfully taken apart.
Continue barking intermittently, apparently just out of the sheer joy of unchained doggishness.

Now, unlike the stereotypical small dog, The Pooch — a Yorkshire terrier weighing less than five pounds — is not generally a yapper. But give her one of these toys and she loses all mooring in common sense.

Exhibit A, my first YouTube upload ever:

Frightening, eh wot?

The Dog Owner Pinpoints the Onset of Dementia

March 16, 2009 by John 8 Comments

Out for morning walkies, the dog owner says, aloud:

No.

(Very good. The dog needs to understand No, and has even at times hinted that she does so.)

And then comes:

Uh-uh. No way.

(Hmm. Well, all right: it’s said in the same tone as No, and immediately follows it. So yes, within the limits of plausibility, the dog may read into one’s tone the continued sense of disapproval, the establishment of and the insistence upon boundaries.)

But then things deteriorate, and the dog owner finds himself having said, a split-second too late:

Sophie, stop. There is not a single circumstance under which you may go down this neighbor’s driveway. You know better than that. Have I ever let you go down this driveway?

The dog stops pulling at the leash. The dog turns, looks back at the man at the other end of the leash. The dog tilts her head, quizzically.

The Case of the Missing Human

December 27, 2008 by John 2 Comments

All men are dogs, they say. But not all dogs are men.

And I should know. My name’s Sophie. I’m a private eye. And yes, I’m a dog. But I’m a bitch.

****

Things were looking pretty good that Friday morning when That Woman came into the back room of my office. I don’t let just anybody do that, but That Woman and I have a history, you might say.

“Good morning,” she said.

I said nothing, just yawned and looked at her. That Woman knew what do and she did it. Made a fuss over me like she does. I took it like my due, because it was, and then I led her from the room. She didn’t simply follow; she trailed along in my wake. Oh yes, she knew what to do all right.

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I Can Has Library?

November 24, 2008 by John 8 Comments

I Can Has Library? (small dog in big library)

Somewhere within the last few weeks, I read a description of a dog’s-eye (or rather, -nose) view of the world. It went something like this: As a dog crosses the living room, it is reading the Doggy Daily News.

Pretty funny.

But since I’ve now had a few months’ practice walking a very olfactorily-oriented dog up and down the street, and around the yard, I think I’ve got to sharpen the analogy a little.

Here’s the way these walks go:

Trot out front door.
Sniff exploratorily at front porch.
Canter briskly up the sidewalk or, if the mood strikes you, detour across the shortcut to the driveway.
Trot up the driveway to the street.
Stop. Sniff the air. Look left, look right, turn around so as to look over your shoulder, turn around again.
Toss a doggy coin and face left or right, accordingly.
Apply nose to ground.
Go.

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