Rascal and I have been walking earlier in the day, when the world is cooler. He is generally not in favor of getting up early, but he can’t tell time. If the sun’s up, it’s all good. The cloud cover was so heavy yesterday morning, however, that the system failed. When I was ready to boogy, the dog was still sacked out on his back with his legs sticking up in the air. I clapped quietly to wake him without disturbing my sweetheart, and Rascal woke confused. So confused that it took him several tries to organize himself enough to turn over and scramble to his feet. In the murky light, he was out of it. Once he got it together, he walked with his usual good cheer. It rained for most of the time we were out, though, so he also raised no objection to a shorter-than-usual walk.
Dogs have ways of making their opinions known. Rascal and I have an understanding. Often, I accommodate his wishes. If he mentions that he’d really rather walk on the other side of the street, for instance, we will do so. Which side of the street isn’t important to me, whereas it sometimes is to him. If, on the other hand, he wants to stop and sniff something at length when we’re two blocks from reaching home, he accommodates my wish that we keep walking. It was easy to come to this understanding because the dog and I get along well and because he is just a little fellow.
Larger dogs seem often to have different understandings with their humans. Rascal and I see frequent demonstrations of these understandings. If big dogs want to do something that their humans would rather not do, they just stop walking. If they feel strongly about it, they sit down. Or lie down. And, because they’re big dogs, there doesn’t appear to be much their people can do to override the work stoppages. The dogs may not get what they want—say, to greet the dog on the other side of the street—but they certainly can bring progress to a halt.
The most startling instance I’ve seen of how big dogs can impose their will happened at our vet’s office. When Rascal and I showed up for an appointment, the vet said that someone had needed emergency housing for I forget how many—seven?—mastiffs. The dogs were currently boarding at the vet’s kennel but would need alternative housing within the week, as his kennel was already booked. What they needed most was new homes.
The mastiffs were well-cared-for, purebred dogs. Who had never received any training. And weighed upwards of two hundred pounds apiece. Some of them a good thirty pounds upwards. When Rascal and I arrived, one of these enormous beasts was stretched out on a bench intended for three or four humans. The receptionist asked the dog to move. The dog responded with, “Feel free to ask me again later.” I tried to get the attention of one a vet assistant brought to the lobby to show me one on the hoof. The dog responded not at all. The vet asked me how I’d like to have one of these mastiffs for my very own, and I responded, “Not at all.”
This morning’s walk was transformative for Sue’s dog, Vesta. Vesta, not long ago, was beset by another dog, destroying her trust in all dogs. Any dog she could see, no matter how far away, was to be feared and thoroughly barked at. This made walks of any length a true and awful trial for both Vesta and Sue. When Rascal and I met up with Sue and Vesta this morning, sure enough, Vesta was loudly afraid. Rascal remained calm. Vesta continued un-calm.
I don’t know what possessed us, but Sue and I decided to go for it anyway. At first, Vesta scarcely paused for breath. Rascal suggested strongly that we should walk on the other side of the street, which we did for a while. A mile or so into the walk, it became okay with both dogs to walk on the same side of the street, as long as Rascal could lag behind. By the time we reached our halfway point, Vesta was completely fine with Rascal. She wasn’t being brave anymore, she was calm. Our little knucklehead goof of a dog had been the calm and steady role model for a friend who needed one. This changes the understanding I have with Rascal, by adding into it a deep respect for him. Maybe I’ll let him sniff at length, all the way home.
7 July 2023