From time to time I write things that I have learned others might find interesting. These are not full blown articles, rather, simply snipets of thought or anecdotes. This is just such an item about one of my dogs, Taly, when she wanted a bowl of milk and I was not able to get it for her right away. It was originally written in response to an email that mentioned that animal can communicate and how that is accomplished.
EMAIL: It is the teaching of Navaho and Shoshoni teachers that not only do all animate and inamate things have a "spirit" but animals, in general, and dogs, in particular, have individual souls and know what humans are saying but lack the ability to communicate. See Numbers 22: 28-30.
My response: There is no question of that in my mind. I have worked with people with problem dogs -- it almost always (if not always...) comes down to a communication problem -- and usually that the human is not paying attention. My most popular solution to problems is to have a human and a dog share a 6-foot lead -- if they have to remain physically attached they learn to communicate better....
One of my favorite dog stories was about a brown miniature poodle I brought home with me from Israel -- I had gotten into the habit of giving her a little bit of milk at night before we would go to bed. This particular night, I was taking a long tub bath -- longer than usual. Taly came into the bathroom and started agitating. I said to her very matter-of-factly "I'm going to be a bit longer, I am really enjoying this bath. If you want your milk right now, go tell Mutti" (my mother (a"h), in whose house we were). She disappeared and I went back to my bath.
When I went downstairs, my mother asked me if I had sent Taly down to get milk from her. I asked why she was asking and she then related Taly's actions. Taly came down the stairs and very purposely sat by her feet and fidgeted until she had my mother's attention. She then went to the fridge, sat down and stared at my mother. When my mother didn't get right up and come, she started pacing from my mother to the fridge. My mother finally stood up and started walking toward the fridge and Taly went to her water bowl, pushing it toward the cabinet where the bowls for her milk were stored. My mother did give Taly her milk in one of those bowls.
I looked at Taly who was now sitting on the sofa -- the look on her face almost said "I didn't know what else to do, I was thirsty for the milk."
She was a great dog and I miss her even now, as I do the others that have touched me that way.
Written 8/12/2001
