I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have this thing about the media telling me things about my dogs. By no means do I claim to be a dog whisperer or even a dog talker. I envy people that have well behaved dogs. I have respect for dog trainers and the immense amount of patience they have. However, when I stumble across someone that explains how to tell if my dog loves me, what my dog is thinking, how my dog is communicating with me, and basically anything else that I’m pretty sure they can’t truly know, I have the same reaction each time! I get this feeling that makes me clench my jaw while I stretch my neck a bit because it immediately gets all wonky and while these subtle little moves are going on, I force myself to take a much needed cleansing breath. At that point I’ve regained proper control of my mouth and it is then time to turn to Marc and spew out this statement, “You are not going to believe this one.”
With all of that said I came across a survey online that was asking, “How strong is your bond with your dog?” I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that most “dog people” would state that they have a strong bond with their dog; and I include myself in that group. I hang out with the dogs. I love on them. I talk to them. I invite them to sit by me or to get on the sofa with me if for whatever reason they aren’t already there. I make sure they eat well in both quality and quantity. I make sure they have interaction with all of us. They are well cared for by everyone they live with and around. To me that’s a great bond foundation. However, the survey I read, asked questions like–does your dog come to you when you call him? Does your dog like being touched by you? Would your dog run away if you left the door open? If you hide will your dog look for you? Now if this is the basis for making a sound decision on my human-to-dog bond then there’s going to be an issue with the outcome. Why? Let’s see here, they’d run right the hell out the door if given the chance. They’d look for me if it were dinner time. They’d come to me if I had a treat. Of course they like being touched by me because I’m the Chief ear and belly rubber. So instead of using the survey questions to determine how strong the bond is between me and my dogs, I’m going to give you an example of a recent bond-test with one of the crew.
Crispie is my son’s dog but she lives with us and spends most of her time with me. The other night she must have known about the bond quiz and wanted to double check our grandma-granddaughter bond. It was late, the TV was on for some background noise, I was doing some Sudoku on my iPad and Marc was sleeping. It was just a typical night in our house. I was so focused on my puzzle and wanting to beat my best time (can you say OCD) that I didn’t hear Crispie’s bonding test start and that was really unfortunate for me. Carson was lying next to-on my leg and he jumped up and hit the floor running which of course, got my attention. As I looked up, Crispie was on her last pre-gag; you know the one just before they empty their stomach on the Beige rug? Yea; that one. I did the whole, “Go outside, go outside, Crispie, outside, come on, over here, here we go, come on.” I said it as fast as possible, made sure it didn’t sound like she was in trouble, and the whole time I was leaning over to ensure she heard me as I was also pointing towards the doggy door just in case she had suddenly forgotten (after 9 years) how to get outside. FAIL. I didn’t catch her quickly enough so the bond-test continued.
This was one of those pukings where they throw up so much that you’re not sure it’s all from one dog. Is it possible that one of the others threw up here first, you ask yourself. I mean you’re right there so you know it’s not possible but still, you wonder how the hell did that big, so freakin’ nasty, pile of fowl brown gook come out of that girl? And what the hell did she eat that smells so skin crawling nasty? You start wondering if she just regurgitated another animal? The stench was so incredibly disgusting that I started to sweat. I had goose bumps from the nasty of it. I cannot begin to guess how many paper towels I used. I have to be sure it doesn’t get on my hand; I don’t even want to feel the warmth of the liquid through the towels. ICCCCKKKKK! I wiped up what I could and went to get a wet towel since this all happened on the rug. When I came back, Carson decided to participate in the testing of bonds. As he finished cleaning up Crispie’s upchuck spot and as I stood there grossing out about it, he came over and promptly licked me leg. Yea that’s how we bond at our house.