Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Dog Blog: Read Your Mind

How on Dog's Green Earth does your species stay so dominant?

I mean, it's bad enough you don't have claws or teeth worth talking about; you eat nothing but crap (and don't friggin' share); you waste your evenings staring at a noisy box with moving gray blobs on the front of it, and you spend your days off doing Dog knows what while your faithful fauna companions waste away in a crate. But it turns out that you can't talk, either! And all this time, I thought my People were just slow.

Oh, sure, you make those god-awful moo-squawk noises with your squishy, flat mouths. But you don't really "communicate". The rest of us in the Animal Kingdom can read what you're thinking from the combination of smells you give off and body language. That is to say, we can read what's important. I'm even starting to piece together some of the sounds.

But it can't hardly be called "talking". Talking implies some listening, and when it comes to listening, you all need to take a page out of the canine playbook. I go out every morning with the Hairy Dad Guy, and I can tell you this: he's at his best when he's open to the surroundings and my signals. When he's paying attention, he doesn't need me to "tell" him that I see a rabbit, and am about to go out of my mind. He can see it! But who does he get mad at on those mornings when he isn't listening?

You bet: the "Stupid" dog!

Now that I know how crippled you People are, I can almost feel sorry for you. Almost. I just wish you were as smart as you all think you are. Then there wouldn't be those awkward little "misunderstandings". Like the time I threw up on the Mom Lady's shoes. That was no accident, Mrs. "I'm going to put barbecue in the crock pot all day and not give the dog any". And perhaps if you all really listened, you would have heard me when I accidentally locked myself in the laundry room. Honestly. After the first 20 minutes, it's just not funny.

I suppose I'll adapt. I've gotten used to the idea of being the lowest ranking member of the pack (which is totally unfair - that little girl can't fight worth a lick!), and all the other little indignities that go along with it. But I just wish I was included on some of the family discussions that I have some expertise in.

For example, the Mom Lady and the Hairy Dad Guy sometimes discuss what they're going to do about the rats. In previous episodes, you might have noticed, I had no idea what a "rat" was. Well, now I know, thanks to some of those crickets I found when I was locked in the laundry room. The rats are actually our FRIENDS! They only want to protect my humans from those evil rabbits and their terrorist plots. But if you listen to the humans, you'll get the totally opposite idea. They want to put poisoned meat with ground glass in the yard, out where they think the rats have been.

I don't know quite what to do about that. I would warn the rats, but I don't actually know any. I could tell a cricket to pass a message, but it's really hard to keep from eating them -- I need to enjoy some kind of hobby, don't I?

And I don't have any friends outside the house. I keep thinking I should try to get to know one of the neighborhood dogs, but I didn't make a very good impression my first few weeks, and now they all light into me whenever they see me walking down the street. (And of course I give as good as I get; those mutts won't get the last word on ME!)

Maybe if I'm really patient, those dumb people will pay attention long enough for me to get the message across... don't poison the meat.

Give it to the dog.

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