We recently adopted our seventh rescue dog – Lexi – over the past three decades. I’ll share more about her in a future blog, but let me briefly explain that she is about three, and the first two-and-a-half years of her life – before we rescued her – she was intended to be breeding stock, not a pet.
Lexi hadn’t walked on a leash before we got her, but she is learning the nuances, e.g., if she becomes entangled in the leash, sitting and holding up her leg is much more effective than three backflips and a cartwheel.
When we are preparing for a walk, she studies me with great curiosity and a tad impatient. She seems unable to fathom why my robe and underwear are not okay, why I need to stop and put on my walking shoes kept by the door, put on a jacket if it’s cool, a hat if it’s sunny, and grab an umbrella if it’s raining. She’s ready as-is. The only change in her attire is the leash she’s forced to wear.
This stimulated me to consider other human behaviors that must peak a dog’s curiosity. Lexi is always curious about my daily ritual of entering a small room where it is raining. Is this what the lady on TV is referring to as “isolated showers”? Then I put on yet another set of clothes from the day before, just as the previous clothes were beginning to carry my scent.
The world is a dog’s toilet. Their humans, by contrast, pee in a very limited number of fixed places in the house. When the dog tries to give it a good sniff, as they would outside, they are admonished, “No! No!” And should they decide to pee in the house, as their humans do, they are bombarded with “BAD DOG! BAD!” which is then followed by much scurrying, the awful smell of liquids sprayed on the carpet, with another “BAD DOG” or two sprinkled in while their human is on their hands and knees. One more thing, hands and knees in this case is not a play position.
Humans don’t stick their heads out of open car windows. How can they smell the world around them? Don’t they realize how much they’re missing?
Humans have a strange form of greeting. They would learn a lot more if they simply sniffed each other’s butts. And for some reason they don’t like it when a dog sniffs the human’s butt.
Like peeing, humans have a specific place they sleep. Dogs are comfortable on the floor, furniture, bed, the grass outside . . . .
Humans spend a lot of time preparing their meals. Dogs get two bowls on the floor: one for water, one for a cup of dry kibble. Oh, and some humans don’t like to share their bounty, but steak can be smelled on a neighbor dog during a greeting.
Despite the human’s propensity for walking, they won’t chase anything – no squirrels, no rabbits – only the dog if the human happens to drop the leash.
Thoughtfully curious or not about the differences, dogs form an indelible bond with their humans. Their tails wag and they’re happy to see us when we return home. They share our joy when we’re happy and they comfort us when we’re sad. They accept us as we are and for who we are. They’re our best friends.
Mike's Fountain Pen 
Love all the good stuff about dogs. Made my day.
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Love it🥂🥰
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Yes, we humans are strange.
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