I stopped seeing a therapist once after she told me my dog “wasn’t a person”. This was in response to my saying that “as long as I have my dog, I have a reason to keep myself physically and mentally healthy, because my dog is my favorite person in the world.” I saw this as a positive, that I had motivation to not let something I was dealing with beat me, because no one else could ever take care of my dog the way I would. She took it as a moment to debate the philosophical semantics of why I shouldn’t think of my dog as a “person”. Though I was the patient, I still think I won “the bigger picture” contest.
On the flip side, I once went to a drive-in movie with my dog and was made to pay for both of us. They said it was because they had a two person minimum and I wasn’t alone in the car. This wasn’t posted anywhere, and I proceeded to debate that it was a bit discriminatory to say a single person couldn’t enjoy the experience of an outdoor summer movie unless they were part of a couple. I should have taken my receipt from that theater to my ex-therapist as proof that my dog was indeed a person.
Dogs have personalities and quirks just like human people. They have the capacity to feel joy, desire, attachment and learn new behaviors. They feel can feel pain, fear, stress, and demonstrate sadness. They are sentient beings. They can communicate through body posture and non-verbal cues. And who out there with a dog could say they don’t talk to that dog – and I mean full conversations. Some of my most insightful exchanges happen to have been with my dog.
Last week I was somewhere with my husband and had to create a new username and password. I then had to set a security question, in case I ever forgot them (realistically by tomorrow). “Who is your best friend?”, was my question. He was sitting right next to me, but if I was going to remember this I had to be honest. “Sorry honey”, I said to him as I proceeded to type in my dog’s name. He smiled and told me he already knew he was number four on my list, at best, after our two dogs and my drive-in date, Jenna, who is now in spirit.
We all know our animals experience emotion. The few times we have had to bring our dog Jaisy somewhere by herself, leaving our other dog Meg at home, Meg is despondent. None of the things that usually excite her even register until she’s reunited with her sister. On the other side of the sentiment coin, when Gramma and Grampa come over, both dogs’ elation is palpable. Jaisy runs to them and then belly crawls all around them squeaking because she just can’t contain her enthusiasm. Meg jumps vertically up and down like Tigger on a tail made of springs. Check box for capacity for feelings.
Our dogs also pick up on our emotions and non-verbal cues. Times that I cry, Jaisy is right there like velcro, licking away my tears. It’s hard to stay feeling down when an adorable pup is kissing it all away. Meg’s contribution is the hug. If we make eye contact with her and ask for “hug” she comes right over , stands up on her back legs, puts her front paws on your chest, and lays her head on you. Skeptics can explain that however they want, I know in my heart there’s a bond there that connects us all on a deeper level
We also know our pets demonstrate intelligence. I’m convinced Jaisy’s inner clock is superior to my husbands. I never need to set an alarm because I can be assured by 7:00 a.m. she will be climbing all over me. Once pulled out of REM, my first view is always her big brown eyes about 1 inch away from my face, so that she doesn’t miss the moment I’m up. Then she acts surprised, as if to say “oh good, since you’re up I have an idea, why don’t we eat breakfast?” Later in the day, while I’m writing on the computer, I always know it’s 5:00 when she starts pacing next to me. If I don’t respond right away, she will begin pawing my right hand on the keyboard until I’ve made so many errors it’s just easier to call it a day and give in to dinner time. By 10:00 at night, any glance or small movement toward the stairs sends her running up to bed so that she can claim her spot. She’s only 18 pounds, but once her head is on my husband’s pillow, she hunkers down like a rock to claim dibs. I would vote that the ability to perceive time, and portray awareness of resultant expectations, is more cerebral than many humans I know.
Meg is more flexible on the sleeping arrangements as long as she has her tennis ball. We call it her “precious” because of her Gollum-like obsession with it. It is a permanent fixture in her mouth, often even once she’s fallen asleep. When we adopted her from the shelter, under “things animal likes” it subtly read “ball”. In hindsight, it should have been in fluorescent capital letters with a spotlight and its own theme song. Often she will sit a few feet away, staring at you like she is attempting to implant her own agenda into your subconscious. She looks at you, then glances at the ball, back at you, and so on until you realize she has already strategically hidden it next to you and you have now been thought-controlled into throwing it for her. We rate that as problem solving, or at least clever mind manipulation.
Jaisy is the one with the strong work ethic and consistently completes a self-appointed perimeter protection program every day. Each time she goes outside into our backyard, she turns left and carries out her clockwise investigative duties. She examines behind every bush, inspects around the shed, and scrutinizes the base of each tree, until she completes her detail-oriented patrol and feels confident we will all be safe. Morning, noon, and night we can all rest assured we are in good hands with her on the job. I’d say that’s points for planning and organization.
Meg is not quite as brave. If fact, her tough watch-cocker-spaniel exterior can be cracked with just a melody. We have learned that she has strong opinions when it comes to music. She is not a fan of the “Big Bang” theme song and her ears perk up the second it begins. It starts with a whimper, which escalates to the shriek of a fire engine by the end. She’s also not a fan of Katy Perry’s “Roar”. She can muddle through the verse, but her rolling wail always alerts us when the chorus has started. These tunes can come on with no pattern and be barely detectable in volume and she will never miss it. No other songs seem to bother her. Apparently she has very particular sound preferences. Maybe it’s become a fear, or maybe everyone’s a music critic and she would characterize it as pain to her ears.
She is also the one who gets allergy shots at home once a month. I think she sees this as the one downside to having caring parents. To connect them to something good, we always give her a tasty treat as soon as it’s done. Like any good sibling, Jaisy insists on equality so she also gets a treat. Right on cue when the needle comes out, Meg runs and hides on her bed, which has taken on a “home-base” mentality where nothing negative can happen there. We like that she has a safe-place, so we respect it. But once she comes back out, the sight of that same needle delights Jaisy since she too has learned to connect Meg’s allergy shot with yummy rewards. So now there’s the ability to identify connections and deduce cause/effect relationships. I think you can all see the trend.
We all know every dog has their own distinct behavioral characteristics, just like their human counterparts. These different personalities extend to comfort level leaving home too. Jaisy loves going for walks. She loves adventure – the wide open sidewalk and the wind at her tail. The only thing between her and the great unknown is a 5 foot purple leash. She looks back at us with a huge smile on her face, and we imagine her voice telling us “this is awesome! Let’s do it again!” Meg, on the other hand, will not budge past my car in the driveway. My husband actually has to pick her up and carry her to the turning point, at which time he can finally put her down and she will walk back on her own accord. It would be more accurate to say she pulls us all the way home.
I think rescue dogs have an extra level of appreciation for their new-found forever homes and aren’t as comfortable stepping away once they’ve experienced stability and unconditional love. Jaisy probably thinks that all dogs have their own bed in every room of the house, an assortment of fresh vegetable treats, and get massaged every night. It’s all she’s ever known. But Meg, and other animals that have been in shelters, have known what it is to feel alone and afraid. While Jaisy sees the unknown as a curious destination to be discovered, Meg has been there and knows that home is much better. Nature and nurture have combined to create a complex individual identity that is a result of all of her past experiences. There’s no place like home, a wise girl and her dog once said.
Dogs have been proven to help in both physical and emotional capacities. Service dogs aide people with physical disabilities allowing them more functional independence. Emotional support dogs allow people to interact socially where they otherwise couldn’t. Stutterers are able to more fluently voice their thoughts when interacting with dogs. And just being in the presence of dogs reduces respiratory rate, pulse rate, and blood pressure. Regardless of semantics, dogs are special and important to our lives.
I think most people would admit that they consider their dog to be a family member. And I believe that most people would also attest to feeling complete and pure love for them. So call them pets, animals, beings, children, best friends, angels or soulmates….. I stand firm with my head held high believing our dogs are people too.