Of all the seasons, I don’t think any reminds me more than spring of the role patterns play in nature. The second week of May, the hummingbirds return and if I don’t have their feeder ready for them, they will hover outside my window and chitter angrily at me. If I continue to miss the point, they will dive-bomb me as I leave the house. Patterns also characterize our interactions with companion animals. As with our interactions with wild animals, sometimes these enhance and other times these undermine those animals’ well-being. And this, in turn, may enhance or undermine those animals’ relationships with us and ours with them. However, even though long-established patterns with our pets often take on a certain written-in-stone quality, the dynamic nature of life itself may force us to change them. Such are the thoughts that occurred to me recently when I did nothing more significant than decide to take a break and go outside with the pets.
Even though taking the dogs out constitutes such a routine event most pet-owners can do it blindfolded, for some reason that particular day I decided to pay close attention to what occurred when I did. Because Watson the Hound loves to run wherever his most primitive instincts and breeding lure him and there are far too many temptations to lure him, I keep him on a leash. On the other hand Violet the Wonder Dog, my now 13-year-old corgi, never had any desire to roam so she’s off-lead when we go out. The following pattern has evolved over the years:
- I think about taking a break and taking the pets out and something about my body language communicates this to them and they immediately become alert.
- When I go to the hook where I keep Watson’s leash, he begins leaping vertically in the air ecstatically while Violet barks and either runs around in circles or chases the cat.
- As soon as I have the leash in hand and turn to him, Watson immediately sits quietly at my feet where he tilts his head upward so I can easily slip his Gentle Leader head collar on. Meanwhile, Violet stands by the door and gives me little yips of encouragement, and the cat prepares himself to streak out and scare the bejeezus out of her as soon as the door opens.
This pattern works for us so well, I don’t even think of it as a pattern and I doubt the pets do, either. Keeping Watson leashed has enhanced our relationship greatly because I’m not one of those people who can turn a dog loose even on my own land to get into whatever that dog chooses to get into. Nor am I one of those people with the time to boundary train a dog to a six-acre plot. And, lastly, I don’t have the time to both keep others’ free-roaming dogs off my property and to ensure that my own free-roaming dog won’t tear off after or with them when they see a deer, moose, or even a horse. Did this on-lead pattern not exist, I’m sure that my relationship with Watson would not be nearly as good as it is.
On the other hand, Violet’s off-lead presence has always greatly appealed to that part of me that wants—or maybe needs—reassurance that this dog really wants to be with me. I remember her as a pup digging up bulbs behind me as fast as I planted them; I remember her in her prime accompanying me as I did everything outdoors and regardless of the weather except mow. Watson was the dog about whom and for whom all those training books were written. Violet was the dog about whom poets and great fiction writers wrote.
Much as the on-lead/off-lead pattern enhanced my dogs’ behavior and our relationship, lately I’ve noticed some changes that make me wonder whether the time for some new patterns might loom on the horizon. Sometimes my front door doesn’t close if I don’t pull it hard enough, thanks to a heavy plastic windbreak on the bottom of it. Several times I’ve gone outside only to look toward the house a few minutes later to see Watson wandering around the front yard. When I call him, he comes bounding to me immediately. When I go into the house and call him in, his eyes may flick momentarily up the slope or down the driveway to where he took off 7-8 years ago, but he comes to me.
Meanwhile, at thirteen Violet no longer hears and sees as well as she used to. Like me, she either sometimes needs to concentrate a bit harder to process the same amount of data, or her age and experience enable her to glean more from that data than those less experienced which takes more time. Naturally, I favor the latter explanation. Whatever the reason, whereas she always used to stay by my side, now she sometimes lags behind or wanders off. In daylight, I can orient her toward me with a sweeping hand gesture or a loud call most of the time. However, I know this won’t work forever.
Several days ago, Violet had to get up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. Wonderful dog that she is, she always tries to wake me when this happens. As I let her out into the pitch black night, an awareness of her vulnerability as well as my own suddenly hit me. Without my glasses and any lights on, I probably saw things no better and maybe even worse than she did. I strained to hear the jingle of the tags on her collar: Could I not hear them because of the wind? Because she had wandered out of hearing range? Or because my own hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be, either? Fortunately, she reappeared and then made it up the steep narrow stairs to my bedroom faster than I did. Once there, I immediately picked her up and put her on the high bed. Since she was about 6 months old, she’s jumped up on that bed herself, but I know that pattern can’t last forever, either. I just didn’t want to face this too that night.
Dare I risk a new pattern in which I trust the off-lead Watson to stay by me? I don’t know because right now the idea of accepting that I might need to leash the once free Violet so overshadows it. What I do know is that, no matter what I choose to do, I’m determined that it will be a choice and that choice will include a willingness to accept all the consequences of it. No matter how painful it might be, I will change if I have to for their sakes as well as my own. No matter how enchanting a pattern or tradition may be, it only has value if it works for all involved.
If you have any comments regarding subject matter, favorite links, or anything you’d like to see discussed on or added to this site, please let me know at mm@mmilani.com.
Of all the seasons, I don’t think any reminds me more than spring of the role patterns play in nature. The second week of May, the hummingbirds return and if I don’t have their feeder ready for them, they will hover outside my window and chitter angrily at me. If I continue to miss the point, they will dive-bomb me as I leave the house. Patterns also characterize our interactions with companion animals. As with our interactions with wild animals, sometimes these enhance and other times these undermine those animals’ well-being. And this, in turn, may enhance or undermine those animals’ relationships with us and ours with them. However, even though long-established patterns with our pets often take on a certain written-in-stone quality, the dynamic nature of life itself may force us to change them. Such are the thoughts that occurred to me recently when I did nothing more significant than decide to take a break and go outside with the pets.
Even though taking the dogs out constitutes such a routine event most pet-owners can do it blindfolded, for some reason that particular day I decided to pay close attention to what occurred when I did. Because Watson the Hound loves to run wherever his most primitive instincts and breeding lure him and there are far too many temptations to lure him, I keep him on a leash. On the other hand Violet the Wonder Dog, my now 13-year-old corgi, never had any desire to roam so she’s off-lead when we go out. The following pattern has evolved over the years:
This pattern works for us so well, I don’t even think of it as a pattern and I doubt the pets do, either. Keeping Watson leashed has enhanced our relationship greatly because I’m not one of those people who can turn a dog loose even on my own land to get into whatever that dog chooses to get into. Nor am I one of those people with the time to boundary train a dog to a six-acre plot. And, lastly, I don’t have the time to both keep others’ free-roaming dogs off my property and to ensure that my own free-roaming dog won’t tear off after or with them when they see a deer, moose, or even a horse. Did this on-lead pattern not exist, I’m sure that my relationship with Watson would not be nearly as good as it is.
On the other hand, Violet’s off-lead presence has always greatly appealed to that part of me that wants—or maybe needs—reassurance that this dog really wants to be with me. I remember her as a pup digging up bulbs behind me as fast as I planted them; I remember her in her prime accompanying me as I did everything outdoors and regardless of the weather except mow. Watson was the dog about whom and for whom all those training books were written. Violet was the dog about whom poets and great fiction writers wrote.
Much as the on-lead/off-lead pattern enhanced my dogs’ behavior and our relationship, lately I’ve noticed some changes that make me wonder whether the time for some new patterns might loom on the horizon. Sometimes my front door doesn’t close if I don’t pull it hard enough, thanks to a heavy plastic windbreak on the bottom of it. Several times I’ve gone outside only to look toward the house a few minutes later to see Watson wandering around the front yard. When I call him, he comes bounding to me immediately. When I go into the house and call him in, his eyes may flick momentarily up the slope or down the driveway to where he took off 7-8 years ago, but he comes to me.
Meanwhile, at thirteen Violet no longer hears and sees as well as she used to. Like me, she either sometimes needs to concentrate a bit harder to process the same amount of data, or her age and experience enable her to glean more from that data than those less experienced which takes more time. Naturally, I favor the latter explanation. Whatever the reason, whereas she always used to stay by my side, now she sometimes lags behind or wanders off. In daylight, I can orient her toward me with a sweeping hand gesture or a loud call most of the time. However, I know this won’t work forever.
Several days ago, Violet had to get up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. Wonderful dog that she is, she always tries to wake me when this happens. As I let her out into the pitch black night, an awareness of her vulnerability as well as my own suddenly hit me. Without my glasses and any lights on, I probably saw things no better and maybe even worse than she did. I strained to hear the jingle of the tags on her collar: Could I not hear them because of the wind? Because she had wandered out of hearing range? Or because my own hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be, either? Fortunately, she reappeared and then made it up the steep narrow stairs to my bedroom faster than I did. Once there, I immediately picked her up and put her on the high bed. Since she was about 6 months old, she’s jumped up on that bed herself, but I know that pattern can’t last forever, either. I just didn’t want to face this too that night.
Dare I risk a new pattern in which I trust the off-lead Watson to stay by me? I don’t know because right now the idea of accepting that I might need to leash the once free Violet so overshadows it. What I do know is that, no matter what I choose to do, I’m determined that it will be a choice and that choice will include a willingness to accept all the consequences of it. No matter how painful it might be, I will change if I have to for their sakes as well as my own. No matter how enchanting a pattern or tradition may be, it only has value if it works for all involved.
If you have any comments regarding subject matter, favorite links, or anything you’d like to see discussed on or added to this site, please let me know at mm@mmilani.com.