Of A Conversation With My Dogs

I started reading this sweet little volume by Zig Ziglar, Conversations with My Dog, about a man having conversations with his dog, a Welsh Corgi. As they discuss the every day events in their lives, the author reveals personal insight and wisdom of relationships, faith, trust, health, and hope.

I bought it several weeks ago while browsing at one of my favorite bookstores, Borders, in Greensboro. I haven’t finished reading it yet, but I’ll probably have it read by Sunday. As I read the first two chapters, I realized that I could have written my own book using the conversations I’ve had with my dogs over the past few years, for we really do have them.

Take this morning for instance. They knew I was getting ready for school. I had let them out earlier to go do their business in the woods, and both had returned on time. I opened the door and let them back in. They trotted in expectedly, not too wet in the feet despite the rain we’d had these past three days. As I moved about the kitchen getting things together for my lunch, I looked down for a moment and there they were, both of them standing politely and expectantly on the rug at the back door.

“What?” I asked.

They looked at each other, then at me.

Misty was the first to speak. “Haven’t you forgotten something?” she asked gently.

I thought for a moment, then it hit me… “Oh, I’m sorry, puppies! The dog biscuits…. I forgot to give you one.”

Ever since they were old enough to eat the dog biscuits, it’s been a routine that when they returned to the house, whether we were out with them or they came back on their own, to give them a treat. The theory was that they would look forward to that treat, and always return when we called them home. In actuality, it works for Max, but Misty continues to come home whenever she is ready to come home. She either has no sense of our urgency to get off to work, or she doesn't think she has to abide by our rule to come home when we call. I still give her a biscuit no matter when she comes home. The fact is, she comes home.

“Well, here they are, crunchy, tasty, yummy dog biscuits,” I sang as I reached into the ceramic biscuit jar and pulled out two of them. I held one out to each dog, and in turn they came forward. Max snatched his as though he thought I might change my mind, while Misty sniffed hers first before she gingerly took it with her teeth and walked away.

I could easily identify Max’s manners from hers with a blindfold over my eyes. Max grabs hungrily, his teeth, nose, face hair, everything touching my fingertips. He‘s never bitten me, not even accidentally, but he always approaches in that aggressive posture of hit and run that might frighten away someone who didn‘t know him better. Misty, on the other hand, takes pride in removing the food item from the giver‘s hand with precision and ease. If you had your eyes closed, you’d hardly know she had been a hair’s breadth away from your hand when she removed a tasty tidbit from your fingers.

Max’s habit is to carry his treat to the front of the recliner in the living room before he chomps it in half, letting a piece fall on the floor as he relishes the one in his mouth. Misty quietly slips over behind the same recliner to nibble at hers. They seem always to have an agreement, these two dogs. One has never tried to take the food away from the other. They know the rules. What’s Max’s is Max’s, and what’s Misty’s is Misty’s.

After she had eaten her treat, Misty sat down on her haunches. Max did the same. I hardly noticed them as I rushed between the bathroom and the bedroom getting dressed and curl-ironing my hair into a slight wave. Sometimes they would play for a few minutes after they come in from outside, running off the excitement they had encountered out there. But this morning, it was quiet, and somber even. When I was ready to go, I flipped off the bathroom light and headed down the hall toward the living room. There they were, still sitting, following me with their soulful eyes. That look was there. The one they save for me before I leave the house for the day.

I glanced at the digital clock on the VCR in the living room. It was 6:50 a.m. I had a few minutes before I had to leave. I still had not had breakfast.

“Now what?” I asked the dogs as I passed them on my way to the kitchen. Silence. Neither spoke. Just those big, almost black eyes peering from beneath their longish, Schnauzerian eyebrows.

I poured some milk, the last of the lactaid (I’m lactose semi-intolerant), dropped two halves of an English Muffin into the toaster, then stepped into the living room and sat down. I had a minute before the toaster clicked.

The dogs came and sat by my legs, Max leaning in for a petting session, and Misty standing a few inches away waiting for an invitation. “I know, guys, but I have to go. I’m sorry. But the good news is, it’s Friday!”

Misty sighed. “Yeah, mom, good for you. You get to leave the house for anywhere from ten to twelve hours. We get to stay. Same tomorrow as today.”

Max added, “I don’t care, just let me sit with you while you wait for your muffin. Can I sit with you? Huh? Can I?” And without waiting for an answer he leaped into my lap.

“Yeah, I know… here Max, let me pet you real good. There, how’s that?” I asked as I rubbed him furiously around the neck and shoulders, and down his back toward his tail, and back up to his neck again. He likes it rough.

“You’re rubbing too hard, too hard, too hard, too fast, slow down!” he growled. Well, I thought he liked it that way, but I eased up a bit, and he settled down into the space between me and the arm of the chair. A faint click alerted them, and their ears perked up instantly. I love those expressive and sensitive, uncropped, schnauzer ears.

They eagerly followed me into the kitchen. “Can’t we play for awhile before you go?“ asked Misty, her toy laying between her feet. “Please?”

I spread peanut butter on the muffin halves, picked up the glass of milk, and sat down in the dining area, which is open to the living room and kitchen. “Let me eat this first,” I replied. “It’s going to be a long day, and I need some morning nourishment. Steve has already fed you, and I made sure you have fresh water in the bowl for the day. You’ve been outside. You guys are good to go.” I reminded them between mouthfuls.

But Misty wasn’t through with me yet. She stood up on her hind legs and laid her front paws on my thigh. “Okay, here’s the deal. You leave us alone every day. It’s not so bad when Steve is here during the day because he lets us out once in awhile. But when you are both at work, well, some days it’s just about unbearable. We know you have to go to work, but we want to play with you more. We want you to go outside with us more. You don’t spend as much time with us as you did before you started teaching.” She stepped away and sat down at my feet.

I patted her silver-grey head, took a sip of milk, and looked at both of them, looked into their beautiful, dark brown doggie eyes and saw a little sadness there.

“You are right, Misty, I don’t spend as much time with you these days, and I am working longer hours away from home, but I do get home before 6:00 usually. You have each other, though. That’s why we brought Maxer into the family, remember?”

Max perked up when he heard his name. “You brought me into the family because you thought I was the cutest thing. Remember? I heard you say that, Mom.”

Misty shook her head slightly. “Well, Max, yeah, she told you that, but the truth is, Mom thought I’d be lonely when she started working full time, so she decided to look for another puppy to keep me company. You’re my company.”

Max’s ears lifted slightly, then dropped. He stood up, his front paws laid across my lap, his head leaning into my stomach. He searched my eyes for reassurance, for truth. “Is this true, Mom? I’m just company?”

I leaned over and held his black face between my hands and nuzzled him with my face. He licked my chin.

“Max, you were and are the cutest thing, and we did find you when we were looking for a dog to keep Misty company, but you are much more than company. You are like her own family, like our own family. You have all the rights and privileges she has. We love you both very much, you are like our own children.”

Misty stretched out on the floor, dejected it seems. “Yes, but you are leaving to go off to work. And you are going to sing that silly song before you leave, and you’ll think everything is going to be just fine until you get back home.” I tried not to be hurt by the slight she had made.

“I like that song she sings,” Max chimed in. “It’s comforting. It reminds me that she’ll be back, and she always doescome back.” He looked at me. “I like that song, Mom.”

“Thank you, Max.“I offered him a bite of the peanut butter muffin, and he snapped it off my fingertips. I offered the last piece to Misty, and she made a show of eagerness as she took it, but I could tell her heart wasn’t into puppiness this morning.

I walked into the living room, the dogs close at my feet. I had only a few minutes before I had to leave for school, so I sat down again on the recliner and flipped it back so there’d be room for two dogs. No sooner had I laid it back then both of them were on top of me, vying for a choice spot to be petted.

“Look,” I began, “I understand that you don’t like being cooped up in the house all day, but Steve did put in that doggie door for you, so you can at least spend part of your day on the front deck, outside in the freshair.The rest of the day, you can lay around, or play with your toys, which I know you do, and you’ve got upstairs and downstairs to run around in. And you have each other.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince them or myself.

Misty snuggled between my arm and chest, and just laid her head there for a moment. “I know, Mom, but it’s just that I’m not getting any younger, and I still like to run around like I did when I was two. I miss running around, and the neighborhood walks. You know how much I like chasing things. You don't throw my toys down the hall like you did when I first came to live with you. You keep forgetting about my needs. You said the doctor told you to get out and walk more. You could take us out walking like you used to. It would be good for all of us.”

She had a point there. I looked at Max for his opinion. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me, Mom, you know that. I’m good just laying around the house all day, or I could follow you around the block. Tell me what you want me to do, and it’s done. I’m good!” Then he licked my hand.

I leaned over and picked up the stuffed football. Misty immediately leaped to the floor, fully alert and postured for a chase. I flung it down the hall, and she flew after it, tossing it around before carrying it back to me. I threw it for her several more times, and realized she truly was joyful when she was chasing her toys. She was right, I had been somewhat neglectful of their needs lately.

I glanced at my watch. It was 7:00 a.m. I was going to be late, but I had to resolve this issue with my puppies.

"Look, guys, it's time for me to go, but I will be back, andMarlene will be here around three-ish o'clock to let you out." As I gathered up my bags, they followed me to the back door.

"I will think about what you said, Misty. I'll see how I can get outside with you more often. Maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow." I rubbed them both behind the ears and around the neck. "Let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Okay, Mom, that's all I ask. Just think about what we need from our point of view. Don't forget why you wanted us in the first place, and don't forget that we need physical activity as much as your students at school do."

"Okay, well..." I almost started to sing the song I had made up last year, but caught myself. I thought it had a catchy tune and I thought they liked it, but I deferred to Misty's opinion and didn'tsing it. Instead, I said, "I've got to go... see you later. Be good."

"Bye, mom. Have a good day at school," said Misty as she wagged her tail. "And thanks for throwing the football around for me."

"Bye mom, I'm going to wait here until you come back," Max, my little, furry comedian said. "I love you. Have a good day."

"I love you both... be sweet. Don't tear up any trash." I called as I closed the door behind me.

So it seems I have some serious thinking and changes to make if I'm going to be taking them out for walks around the neighborhood. Finding the time is the main problem, and at the end of the day, most of days, I'm just too pooped myself to get dressed for a vigorous walk. However, perhaps I could begin with an easy stroll, just me and the puppies. Even that would be an improvement.