Day One Hundred Five

Today

The animals are quiet this morning. Quiet sounds good, but it isn't always so. Take last night for example. Andy and I were watching TV, in blissful ignorance, cause everybody was quiet. That's when we heard a loud crash. Not really sure of the location of the sound, I ran into the front bedroom which seemed the most likely spot.

The bedroom looked unscathed, but as I turned the corner into the bathroom, I saw the reason for the sound. Dash was sitting on the floor playing in a huge puddle of water, deposited there when he pulled the full, stainless steel water bowl off the counter. Poor Finn was sitting on the counter looking at the empty space where his favorite water bowl should be. He looked at me as though he wanted me to know he didn't knock it over. Since that very same water bowl has safely sat on the counter for several years, it wasn't too hard to figure how who the perp was. The same guy who was now happily splashing around in the water.

Moments before this was taken
Dash was sitting on his haunches
like a Meerkat

I remember when my kids were little, veteran child raisers would warn you to be very nervous when kids got too quiet. That awareness has simply shifted to the animals I'm raising. I am quickly learning all of the new sounds Dash has added to the atmosphere of the house - tearing, shredding, skittering, scratching, etc. It's when it gets real quiet, I now expect a crash, bang or scream to follow. I am learning slowly, however, and my attempts at preemptively thwarting off chaos don't always work. My vision has improved somewhat as my eye muscles get a workout darting back and forth - and rolling.

The creatures in this house are teaching me how to understand them. Andy and I were discussing animal/human dialogue and I explained it like this. When you live with animals and you try to be purposeful and in tune with them, it's only natural to fill in their side of a conversation. I reminded him that he "knows" what Rooney is thinking and carries on conversations with her all the time. Well, I know what all of them are thinking, feeling, wanting, most of the time. Fancy and I have the most verbal conversations. I know his language and intonation. Studies have shown cats exhibit a unique language that only their human partners can translate. I think that's brilliant on their part - the cats, not the humans. Cats literally teach us how to understand them.

When Dash first got here, Fancy gave me the cold shoulder for a few days. I think he was observing before he formed an opinion. When he finally realized our relationship wasn't going to change, he relaxed and continued my training sessions. I know exactly what he is trying to tell me. Sure, most of it has to do with convincing me he needs a treat or more food, but not always. Sometimes he just likes to be alone with me to tell me his troubles or that he's really happy and loves me a lot.

I wish everyone would try to understand their pet's point of view, instead of trying to dominate and control them. Yes, there have been times when Jack and I have had to work out who's really Alpha - well Andy's Alpha - and I'm Beta. But Jack's okay with that. You see, Jack's idea of being Alpha is kinda scary. It's not bad, just his wolf genes doing their thing. But we aren't wolves, so the humans need to lead the pack. But, we don't destroy him for being what he is. We let him know his place in the pack. Sometimes that's all a pet wants to know - that they are loved and safe.