We humans tend to assume we’re smarter than other animals. Because we’ve developed technology – this ability to extend our reach – that makes us appear more intelligent. There are things dogs do that make me wonder whether they know more than us or perhaps perceive and communicate differently, in ways that make more sense.
Dogs are pretty basic. Feed them and they’re happy. Take them for a walk and they wag their tail like you’ve invented ice cream or something. Crinkle a bag that contains one of their snacks and you can get them to do many things that look funny on YouTube, Facebook or Twitter.
They take cues and run with them. It might be a sound, site or smell. Their senses engage and that gets them to run to the front door, roll over, or bolt for your car.
Sometimes their reaction is based on a simple action the human takes. Those are the situations that stand out and make me realize how they get the simple things in life and know what’s important. Beyond that, who the heck knows what’s going on in their head, or why something charges their batteries.
One of my favorites is watching the reaction of our two canines – Thor and Pepper – when I put on my lawn mowing shoes. You would think I was about to cook a couple of steaks for the two of them.
My mowing shoes are my very old basketball refereeing shoes, beat up, grass-stained, but comfortable for handyman activities. All I have to do is go into my closet and come out holding them, and the circus is off and running.
Thor and Pepper start making grunting and yipping sounds, hopping up and down on their paws. They spin around in circles, jump on each other and wag their tails so hard it could knock you out if it hit your head.
All because I’m about to mow. I do like cutting the grass, but not THAT much. What the heck gets them so excited? I don’t get it.
Our front yard needs most of the mowing. I open our gate, close it, and the dogs come and lay down there to watch. They remain stationed during my entire journey, up and back, up and back. They protect the perimeter.
Something about watching me walk back and forth pushing a mechanical contraption gets them charged. And they know it’s coming because of the shoes.
Similarly, they monitor my behavior when I get up in the morning. My routine every day includes a workout after waking. Some days it’s a bike ride, others a jog, lifting weights, swimming or a brisk walk.
Based on how I get dressed, they know whether to show additional excitement about me getting up and changing clothes. If I go jogging, I wear calf support hose. The INSTANT I pull them out of the drawer, they go nuts again, knowing that I will be taking them with me to explore the world.
I can hold up one of the calf hose and not say a word and they’ll begin jumping up and down, “Hey, Pepper, dad’s taking us for a walk,” Thor says telepathically to his sister.
It’s all quite amusing watching the two of them get excited by cues, but don’t mess them up. If, for example, I pull the calf hose out, but it’s pouring rain, so I decide to work out indoors, man, both dogs go into severe depression, eyes mourning, ears down, placing their faces sadly on the carpet.
So, monitor your clothing choices. And prepare yourself for the Pavlovian response.
Dogs are pretty basic. Feed them and they’re happy. Take them for a walk and they wag their tail like you’ve invented ice cream or something. Crinkle a bag that contains one of their snacks and you can get them to do many things that look funny on YouTube, Facebook or Twitter.
They take cues and run with them. It might be a sound, site or smell. Their senses engage and that gets them to run to the front door, roll over, or bolt for your car.
Sometimes their reaction is based on a simple action the human takes. Those are the situations that stand out and make me realize how they get the simple things in life and know what’s important. Beyond that, who the heck knows what’s going on in their head, or why something charges their batteries.
One of my favorites is watching the reaction of our two canines – Thor and Pepper – when I put on my lawn mowing shoes. You would think I was about to cook a couple of steaks for the two of them.
My mowing shoes are my very old basketball refereeing shoes, beat up, grass-stained, but comfortable for handyman activities. All I have to do is go into my closet and come out holding them, and the circus is off and running.
Thor and Pepper start making grunting and yipping sounds, hopping up and down on their paws. They spin around in circles, jump on each other and wag their tails so hard it could knock you out if it hit your head.
All because I’m about to mow. I do like cutting the grass, but not THAT much. What the heck gets them so excited? I don’t get it.
Our front yard needs most of the mowing. I open our gate, close it, and the dogs come and lay down there to watch. They remain stationed during my entire journey, up and back, up and back. They protect the perimeter.
Something about watching me walk back and forth pushing a mechanical contraption gets them charged. And they know it’s coming because of the shoes.
Similarly, they monitor my behavior when I get up in the morning. My routine every day includes a workout after waking. Some days it’s a bike ride, others a jog, lifting weights, swimming or a brisk walk.
Based on how I get dressed, they know whether to show additional excitement about me getting up and changing clothes. If I go jogging, I wear calf support hose. The INSTANT I pull them out of the drawer, they go nuts again, knowing that I will be taking them with me to explore the world.
I can hold up one of the calf hose and not say a word and they’ll begin jumping up and down, “Hey, Pepper, dad’s taking us for a walk,” Thor says telepathically to his sister.
It’s all quite amusing watching the two of them get excited by cues, but don’t mess them up. If, for example, I pull the calf hose out, but it’s pouring rain, so I decide to work out indoors, man, both dogs go into severe depression, eyes mourning, ears down, placing their faces sadly on the carpet.
So, monitor your clothing choices. And prepare yourself for the Pavlovian response.