This article appeared in the BMDCNV newsletter in early 1999...

A matter of communication…

 
On a sunny, spring-is-around-the-corner day recently, I stood in the yard with Zoey between my knees, bending over to scratch her rib cage and nuzzle her beautiful rust-colored cheeks.  She closed her eyes and gently wagged her tail in absolute bliss.  It has been five months since we let Tycho go and there are prospects of a new puppy in the works, but for a moment I stopped to appreciate this special time with just Zoey.
 
My boss’s second son is taking his time in learning to talk; at his age, his older brother was much further along verbally.  I have been drawing parallels to Zoey. 
 
Tycho was four when we made plans to pick up Zoey, and I remember wondering if the new dog would ever have the level of communication that we had with Tycho.  Tycho was an excellent communicator – we always knew when she wanted something and what it was she wanted.  She would come and stare at us and if we didn’t hop-to, she would add a bark, progressing to a “Woo, woo, WOO!” when we were still slow in responding.  She trained us to know such things as “feed me”, “let me out”, “there are squirrels that need to be chased”, “someone’s driving by”, “there’s a piece of rawhide under the couch”, “give me the pancakes on the counter”, “take that bone away from Zoey and give it to me”, and always “pet me, PET me, pet ME!”
 
Tycho demonstrated complicated thought processes regularly… My two favorites: One time Zoey was eating food in her dish.  There wasn’t any food in Tycho’s dish.  Tycho knew Zoey would growl at her if she tried to get that food.  So she left the room and came back with a choice rawhide bone, knowing full well that Zoey could not tolerate Tycho to have something that nice.  Zoey immediately left her dish to take the bone from Tycho who gladly surrendered it and went to Zoey’s abandoned food dish.  Mission accomplished.  The second example of doing something unrelated to get what she wanted was if she needed our attention in the kitchen, she would bang on her food container.  Normally, this meant “feed me!” but in certain cases it meant “I need you NOW in the kitchen to either give me something that’s on the counter or to let me OUT because I don’t feel so good.”  This was especially effective in the middle of the night when Tycho was having a gulp attack.
 
“ I need a chew flip and you need to stop watching television and get it for me” was a common order we received from Tycho.  One day, we were (heaven help us) OUT of chew flips.  The help-yourself bag in John’s closet was empty.  Tycho went and stuck her whole head and shoulders in the bag to check it out.  Definitely empty.  She looked at us. This was clearly unacceptable.  Tycho picked up the bag by the bottom and shook it dramatically. “HELLO!!  The bag is EMPTY!!  What are you doing about this?!”  We dissolved in tears of laughter.
 
Zoey, of course, benefited greatly from Tycho’s communications.  Tycho would do the asking, but to be fair we would give whatever it was to BOTH dogs, whether it was a cookie or attention. 
 
I spent a lot of time training Zoey, working with her through seven obedience titles.  Zoey understands a lot of body cues used in the obedience training environment.  With a silent tilt of my head or shoulders, she will adjust herself to a straighter front or a heel position. I have held great long conversations with Zoey: “See this wonderful soup bone?  All you have to do is SIT-stay and then DOWN-stay and it will be all yours.  Can you do that for me?  Just SIT and think about your ‘Special Bone.’” 
 
Beyond the discussions we’ve had working through the twenty-seven (or so) basic commands needed for the obedience ring she of course understands many other things.  We play with “table” and “hup up” which has a hundred different situational meanings varying from “jump up on me” to “jump on the bed” to “jump off the bed.”  She can sometimes do “sneeze” and always “speak” and will combine the two together for extra credit.  She will “get on the couch,” “go lie down in the corner,” “get in the car,” “find your leash,” “bow,” “dead,” “roll over,” “find Fred,” “get Spike,” and “bring me the Beaver.”  If asked, she can “go see John” and “go upstairs” and “go downstairs” and “let’s go home and get your breakfast.”
 
But the communication in all of these examples is very one-sided.  I offer things that I think Zoey might like – cheese, cookies, roast beef, bones, tug-o-war games, praise – and ask her to do things for me.  Once in a while, she will try to get something I’m offering by doing something I’ve asked or suggested, maybe even without me asking.  These are great occasions where I feel a light has gone on over BOTH of our heads.  A lot of our training has had to come down to “because I said so.” But what does Zoey actually want?  Well, if we knew that…
 
With Tycho gone, there is a certain silence.  We are permitted to go out about our lives without her regular suggestions of how to make her life more complete.  For the first few weeks, there were times we forgot to feed Zoey – Tycho wasn’t there to say “HEY, it’s dinner time – you’d better have plans to do something about this!”  Zoey wouldn’t say a word.
 
And so began a whole new learning process for human parents as well as dog.  Zoey isn’t Tycho.  As much as I wish she might, she doesn’t care about lying under the computer table so I can keep my toes warm underneath her.  She isn’t really likely to start banging on things to get what she wants, and actually, that’s an okay thing.  But she does have her own way of making a point and both sides have made an effort to communicate a little more.
 
Rather than get up in your face when you’re having toast and bark/yell “HEY, don’t forget ME!”  Zoey will instead execute a perfect sit alternated with a very pretty down while drooling copious amounts of water on the floor (fortunately she’s a dripper and not a slimer).  If things are getting desperate – the last bite! – her head will start to bob up in down, the eyes will widen in disbelief and the tongue will make a few swipes around her whiskers.  It sounds terribly rude, but it isn’t really as bad as that.
 
We have learned to look for the small tell-tale signs that say “I’ve had my dinner and I’d like to take a chew flip outside for dessert.”  We now recognize the head-bobbing, tongue-swiping behavior while making eye contact as one of the “feed me?” signals, along with the obvious empty dish polishing.  Zoey has also perfected her berner bump into a very forceful “PET ME” and “I need a hug right now.”  She has always taken a cat’s approach to asking to go out or come in… Sit and stare at the door until somebody eventually comes.  Amazingly it works quite well.
 
But just the other night, an event of some significance occurred.  I was leaning on the kitchen counter reading a novel, not paying any attention to the dog, when I heard the oddest sound from behind me.  I turned and looked and there was Zoey, lying on the floor with her head between her paws and she was ever-so-quietly trying to draw my attention to the fact that really, dinner time had come and gone and was I EVER going to do anything about it?  The sound was something like a growl, a mutter, a grumble, a whine without whining, with just a touch of desperation to it.  “I don’t want to start making demands but I’M HUNGRY!”  And so I was perfectly glad to assemble and present her delayed supper. 
 
Zoey has taught me so much, not just in the obedience ring, but also in everyday life with a hardheaded, albeit sweet, bitch.  The last five months have taught both human and dog a lot about communication, and I am finally relating to Zoey as a “companion dog” despite the fact that she has long since earned that official title three times over.