Furry Friday: Secret Dog Owner Behaviors (SDOB)
There once was a Sex and the City episode that dealt with the SSB: Secret Single Behavior. Those quirky things that are fine to do when you’re single but a partner would find just weird. Drinking straight out of the bottle and leaving one’s jeans at the front door if the legs got a soaking from a sudden downpour are a couple, but they’re not all “I get to be messy” behaviors. Examining one’s pores in the mirror, an obsession with the VS Semi-Annual Sale or eating odd snackage (like pretzels and havarti) for dinner qualify.
When the puppacita climbed on top of me in the middle of the night last evening, snuggled up and went to sleep — thus ensuring that she’d found a place in today’s Furry Friday — I began thinking about the Secret Dog Owner Behaviors. They don’t really cross into the SSB, because obviously the men I get involved with must love animals, too. People often randomly ask if the puppacita (Chi-Chi, my 5-pound Chihuahua) sleeps in the bed with me, and perhaps it’s odd that I find that an odd question: Why would she NOT? I don’t even know what crate training is. I just know that the puppacita belongs curled up with me, not in curled up in a box.
What are some other SDOB? Swallowing my pride, which is overshadowed by the love for my pup, here are several I’ll admit to:
- Dog Adventure Day: This is usually a Saturday, or when I similarly have the time to take her out for “adventure,” which to a 5-pound dog means something wild and crazy like the park or pet store, shopping or sightseeing, and often culminates in a shared meal like a turkey burger at a patio restaurant. How do these begin? I say to her in the morning, in a certain tone of voice that she probably recognizes, “Are you a dog who loves adventure?” Wag, wag, wag, wag. “You ARE a dog who loves adventure. I KNEW it!” Happy dance and she runs for a leash. And there’s a jingle that accompanies this, as well. And, of course, a hashtag: #DogAdventureDay
- Speaking of the dogs at restaurants: I just won’t eat at a place that tells me to tie puppacita outside the railing or even make her sit on the ground. It’s in her bag, on an extra chair pulled up close to me, or nada. In the photo above, she’s angling for some poor businessman’s lunch at American Tap Room.
- Or me at a restaurant trying to get special food for the dog: I once held up the Subway line by trying to convince them to sell me just one of those containers of the chopped-up chicken. They insisted I buy a full sandwich. I won.
- Sing-songs: I sing Stevie Wonder’s “You Are the Sunshine of My Life” to the dog. Well, she is my little sunshine. She even has a hoodie that says “Little Sunshine.”
- Speaking of those dog clothes: I’ve bought such a wardrobe for her that I needed to build a special closet rack for those tiny hangers, extending the height of the closet door and composed out of the wire frames for a back-of-the-door panty rack. It’s separated into T-shirts and tanks, dresses, sweaters, hoodies, coats, and accessories.
- Cutesy words: Instead of pee and poop, I ask if she needs to go “wysiwig” or “poh-poh.” Sounds better? I don’t know.
- Sugary sweet routines: When I come home, she does her happy dance, and I take her out to whizzy, as I carry her downstairs I whisper to the puppa, “Did you have a tiny day?” Before we go to sleep, I whisper, “I love you, tiny puppa.”
- Anything for my puppa: I’m pretty sure the number of open bags of dog treats in the kitchen is about to surpass the number of open, half-full bottles of Philosophy shower gels ringing my oval tub (and THAT is an SSB).
Your blog posts about your puppacita make me long even more for a dog (I’ve not housed one for nearly ten years now, because Mr. H vehemently insists he does not want another one, and freely admits that he is afraid of getting attached for when the inevitable day comes). I myself am not so cowardly, but so far, I’ve avoided the domestic discord bringing a dog home would entail. How long I can hold out is another matter.
That said, I take issue with the dog wardrobe. One of the reasons I never approved of dressing dogs up (except for short-hairs in the coldest weather) is that costumes generally tend to catch on dog’s hair (most particularly short-haired dogs like your pup) and cause irritation. They don’t like it, even if they don’t tell you so.
All the rest is copacetic. In fact, I wish more American restaurants would adopt the liberal attitudes of some European cafes that allow well-behaved dogs to sit beneath the tables of their people. This is probably a consequence of too many Americans not training their dogs in dog manners.
3 reasons she wears clothes, except when it’s too hot out: 1) She gets cold when it’s 68 or lower, 2) She has sensitive skin and grass, etc., irritates her nearly hairless underbelly, 3) She likes the snug, cozy feeling — much the same reason why chihuahuas burrow under blankets. When it’s time to go somewhere, she puts her head down and stretches out so I can slide some clothes over her head. If she didn’t like it, I wouldn’t subject her to it. My rule is that they have to be soft, stretchy, no wool or anything else itchy, and nothing that would make her trip or get caught.
Here’s the caption for the second photo:
“Uh oh, I forgot to put my panties on! Now what?”
Funniest article I’ve read in a long time. What is SSB?
I love Furry Fridays.
Sparky has trained so that every weekend starts off with a walk in the park — although with his arthritis that more entails pushing him in a stroller. Maggie did have a sweater for outdoors in the winter — I guess short haired Chihuahuas need some protection.
Er, that should read “Sparky has trained me so that”
And yes, they sleep with me.
You could lavish this sort of care on raising young human animals who would — as a bonus — grow up to take care of you in your old age
Ms. Johnson said in the second paragraph that one of the puppacita’s professional jobs is screening suitable suitors, who in your words (at least) relate to being able to “lavish this sort of care on raising young human animals”.
Don’t you think there’s a conflict of interest going on there? Why would P. want to share her owner’s affections?
But then the puppacita would get another person to shower affection on her.
Now now, dogs aren’t fools. What you really have here is a two-individual human-dog pack, and the dog’s role is to bestow and receive affection on and from the owner (unless P. spends her day herding sheep or hunting or something like that). That’s how P. “makes her living” and she won’t look kindly on any other individual — human or dog — who wants to compete in giving and receiving affection. P’s best move is to keep the competition for her role down to a minimum by trying to reject all other possible competitors.
This calculus changes, of course, if the pack is under some sort of threat — one that is obvious to a dog, naturally — that would be smaller if the pack got larger…
There are absolutely no guarantees that children will take care of you when you’re old.
When you have cats your secrets stay secret. Unless, of course, you spill the beans on the Internet. My fifteen year old cat Jimmy sleeps with me every night and we wrap our arms around each other. We’re face to face. His nicknames include the following: Dude, Littles, Shrimpy, Captain Fuzzy, Squishy, Sir Squishalot….he likes half and half several times a day, shares whatever meat I may be having for dinner, and doesn’t like it when I climb a ladder. Lest you think I’m a wretched friendless spinster, know that I’ve been married for thirty years and I am not socially awkward.
Bridget,
¥ou have just lost all credibility as a serious reporter. One question: how do you know that that is a dog?
It’s wonderful how much you love your little chi. You rescued her, didn’t you? You have made one happy little doggy out of a sad, neglected stray. You must be a really good person because you have done something to make this world a better place.
Thanks Bridget for sharing your intimate secrets about Chi-Chi.
I find nothing odd or unusual about any of it.
My neighbors probably think I am odd.
When I go outside to exercise, my boxer (Bailey) goes into hysterics when I do crunches. She always ends up standing over top of me and eventually sitting on my stomach, which makes me laugh so hard I am crying.
Our day is Sunday. I take Tyler (rescue mutt) and Bailey for a ride to the river where they can run free and chase sticks that I throw into the water. On the way home we stop for a sausage biscuit at Burger King.
Nothing like the bond I have with them.
Absolutely nothing.
Funny you settled on Furry Fridays too. A longstanding tradition at our house was that on Friday evening, our adopted-from-pound crazed terrier Rascal (name richly deserved) got to go to the local McDonalds for a plain hamburger. It was, to judge from the hysterical barking, running around, and wagging of tail, the highlight of his week – thus was born the tradition of “puppyburgers.” We’ve since moved away from that particular seaside town but will one day return to retire; in the meantime, despite the fact that Rascal died 10 years ago, when we visit there (it’s still a favorite vacation spot), we always make it a point to stop at that specific McD’s for puppyburgers. Somewhere up there a little manic mutt is barking happily.
I don’t let the dogs sleep on the bed, because the two dogs and two cats warring on top of me just doesn’t appeal. Other than that – well, good job! If the dogs aren’t allowed to sit outside with me, there’s something wrong with the place.
I have two cats. I will spare you all the SCOB shenaigans that goes on between me and my two lovely girls except I just had to share my own cutsie word for pee and poo. I call them stinkies. As in “Did you make some stinkies?” after my oldest cat’s after-breakfast ritual visit to the litter box. Or, “Wow, that is a lot of stinkies!” when its time for the daily scoop out and after that “No more stinkies!”
And on a related note, my cats get so excited when I give them a clean litter box with fresh litter. Then its a race to see who can make the first stinky in what amounts to a virginal paradise in the eyes of my little neat freaks. Maybe its like a trip to the spa or something
I have a 7 month old Black Lab whom I’ve named Murphy. Murph loves riding in the car, going for long walks and sleeping curled up next to my wife. I don’t dress him in any kind of clothes because 1) he never seems to get cold and 2) he’ll jump into any body of water he can get too regardless of the temperature. We’re still learning how to bond to each other but I think Murphy has a secret; he’s much smarter then he’s letting on.
kenny, most Labs are.
I categorize cats and dogs as ‘persons of fur.’
Miss Johnson, you are obviously a severely troubled young woman in desperate need of professional help. Now if you’ll excuse me, Rufus (my 150-lb. Newfoundland) has just informed me that it’s time for me to drive him around the neighborhood, so he can check up on any new canine residents in his domain.
His name is Ollie, Big Ollie. he’s a Russel Terrier, rough coat long fur and he is longer than tall. My Buddie through thick and thin.
Chasing balls, ropes, squirrels and Rabbits is his game.
Current location? lying behind me on the swiveling office chair at my desk in front of the computer.
Main mission, 0830 hours he must rouse me from sleep by licking the bald spot on the back of my head.
“What a pal, What a pal!”
Ms Johnson, I enjoy your “Furry Friday” posts; glad you have a pup that gives you such joy.
I differ with you on crates; they are especially important for house training a new pup (obviously with a rescue dog you didn’t have to deal with this), but after a couple of years, we simply have a crate in the house with the door propped open all the time. My adult labs just go to their crate when they are tired or need a safe place for a timeout. Crates, used properly, are less of a prison and more of a nice comfy den for lots of pups.
The rest of the time they sleep on the bed, exactly in the center of the bed such that they maximize their space, while miminizing MINE.
I always get a chuckle when I think about an infrequent dog-sitter I used to have, she’d take my Lab to her house; she reported that Cosmo was a good girl, at night just jumped onto the bed and went right to sleep. When I asked her how her husband felt about that, she replied, “Oh, he doesn’t mind; he just goes and sleeps on the couch”.
Enough of that; for me and my girls its a happy Sunday doggie adventure at the lake…
“This dress demeans us both.”
Our family consists of two humans and 3 felines. The cats all have multiple nicknames- the mama has “Princess Pea” and “the Velvet Shadow” among her collection. The boys are “Big Red” a.k.a. “Chicken Mike” and “Poe-poe-koh” the baby cat. They are terrible mooches, the lot of them, yet I can’t help sharing meat or fish with them. I wish they could accompany me on adventures, and sometimes I think about getting a pug when one of them departs, but for now I’ll settle for our little pride as a special part of being at home.