Breaking the Language Barrier

Language can be a real barrier to understanding. I once went on a date with a Frenchman. He spoke about two words of English and I spoke about two words of French. We wisely took a translator along with us to dinner. The Frenchman and I never went out again but the translator and I had a lovely relationship. Oh well, that's a story for another day. The purpose of this post is to discuss the language barrier between us and our dogs.

Having had dogs all my life, I think I do a pretty good job of understanding dog but my dogs have all been better at understanding my language. We sometimes even have to spell a word so that our sleeping pooches don't hear and get overly excited. I've found that the phrase "Do you want?" always gets their attention. They've learned that the phrase is usually followed by something good, such as treat, ride, to go out, etc.

Learning to understand each other is vitally important. The top reason that dogs are turned into shelters is house training problems. Most think the dog has a problem learning where to pee and how to communicate the fact that they need to pee. I think it's just the opposite. The human has a problem learning how to understand what the dog is saying to them.

Just as with humans, not all dogs speak the same dialect. We have to be adaptable and learn from them. My dog Libby told me she needed to go outside by bringing me her leash. That's pretty direct and understandable.

Bentley rang sleighbells hanging from the doorknob. It was easy to understand.

Monty was adorable. He had suffered terrible physical abuse before we adopted him and he didn't like to bother anyone. He would touch me gently with his paw and when he had my attention  he would pull his lips back in a silly sheepish grin. He was saying "excuse me, if it isn't too much trouble I really need to go outside for a minute."

Morgan barked at me. She'd plop herself in front of me and bark. Unfortunately, this was her method of addressing any need she had, so when the barking started, we'd play a game of 20 questions. Do you have to go out? Do you want a drink of water? Do you want a cookie? Are you hungry? Did you lose your toy? Is someone in your bed? When I hit the right question the barking would stop and she'd wag her tail and get very excited. I'm sure she thought I was terribly stupid.

 Tsar, in typical Tsar fashion would leave the room, then poke his head around the doorway as if to ask if I was ready yet. It was subtle.

Samba would put her face about six inches in front of me and stare deeply into my eyes. We would read each others thoughts.

Fudge was much less subtle. He'd hit me, either with his big fat paw or worse with his enormous heavy head. It was impossible to miss his meaning.

 Tess would race back and forth between me and the door as fast as she could go. Tess usually waited till the last possible minute to tell me so if she started running, so did I.

 Sky would pick up his ball and bring it to me. Fairly obvious.

Noah would go to the window and look out, then come and nudge me. Also fairly obvious.

Sebastian would come lick my hand, then put his head in my lap. He was such a gentle boy.

Mackey picks up her squeaky toy and stands at the top of the stairs squeaking.

Norma Jean dances. She gets in front of us and shifts her weight from one foot to the other and hops around. It's hard to miss.

They each have their own way of telling us what they need. The question is, are we smart enough to understand what they're saying? How do your dogs let you know when it's time to go out?