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Dogs Listen to Me Now

Yesterday, as I strode out to the station wagon to haul some radiators, I saw one of the neighbor's dogs in the middle of the street.  He was barking like crazy but I couldn't see what he was barking at.  A car was slowly driving down the street to avoid hitting him.  Because of my alternate identity, "Advocacy Woman...Defender of Global Justice", I decided to get involved, save the dog from being run over, check out who he was barking at, etcetera.

As I walked closer, I spotted our mailman standing on the steps of the house across from the dog and holding a broom.  Which seemed necessary because this dog was mad--hackles raised, ears halfway back, ignoring the car which had come to a stop just a few feet from him.  His teeth were not showing and his tail was not lowered, but he seemed to be demonstrating that he was anxious. Now I was nervous because, even though I have met this dog a few times, I would rather tangle with a tow truck driver or Home Depot employee than tangle with an angry dog.

As fate would have it, I have been reading "The Other End of the Leash" by Patricia McConnell before I fall asleep at night.  It's a fascinating study of how dogs and humans interact and frequently misunderstand each other.

I thought that this might be as good a time as any to test Dr. McConnell's advice about human-dog communication.  So, instead of facing the dog straight on and walking towards it, I made a little "play bow", turned away from the dog while clapping my hands and took a few steps.  (Note for my mother:  Grace was inside of our house with Ingrid.  I knew you'd want to know.)

The dog ran right up beside me to check me out.  I didn't look him in the eye or reach for his collar or his head.  He forgot about the mailman, lowered his hackles and wagged his tail. I just talked softly to him, stayed beside him and walked slowly towards his house.  He stayed beside me as I climbed the steps.  Now I could see, from the door hanging ajar, that he had pushed through the storm door in his eagerness to get at the mailman.  I let him in, called out a few times for my neighbors, and closed their front door firmly.

The mailman thanked me, I waved and walked on my way, pleased that the advice in the book had worked so well. 

Later on when Grace was tucked into bed, Aaron and I were trading stories about our day and I told him about my fabulous new dog communication skills.  

He began to tease me: "You talk to dogs now?  Did the dog talk back?  Did you do this?" (He made a funny "hang ten" sign and waggled his fingers.) "Maybe you're the Dog Whisperer!"

I made my own mysterious hand gesture at him and he burst out laughing.  "What's that?!  Is that one of your hand signals for dogs?"

"Oh yes.  This is a very special one.  It means 'Bite me!'"

So there.

Posted by jeanne on September 20, 2006 at 10:31 AM

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