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Conversation
has gone to the dogs
by Mad Dog
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It turns out
dogs are perpetually stuck in the terrible twos. Let’s see the
SPCA use that as a sell point for their next puppy adoption
campaign. |
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I’ve never been good at foreign languages. That’s why I’m
always grateful I was born in an English-speaking country. During
school I took several years of French and two of German, absorbing
about as much as a concrete sponge. But I’m glad I took them. The
French came in handy on my trips to Europe, letting me order food
and ask for directions without too much embarrassment. Of course I
had to pretend I really did want cigars in hollandaise sauce with
sautéed shoelaces for dinner and act happy to know how to get to
the louvered windows when I’d hoped to find the museum that houses
the Mona Lisa. The German, well, let’s just say that the one
phrase I remember, “Ich bin ein Ausländer”, won’t come in nearly as handy since all I’d be
doing is stating the obvious.
Now it turns out
there’s a more useful language to study: dog. There’s a book out
called How to Speak Dog which tries to teach us humans to
communicate with canines. The author, Stanley Coren, claims a dog
has the vocabulary and intelligence of a two-year-old. This might
not be so bad if it converted into fourteen dog years, but I don’t
think it works that way. Thus, it
turns out dogs are perpetually stuck in the terrible twos. Let’s
see the SPCA use that as a sell point for their next puppy adoption
campaign.
Coren says each wag,
yawn, and head cock means something and we can learn to interpret
them. This sounds good though it raises the question of whether we
really want to know this. After all, as anyone who can’t remember
things they did while drunk will attest, ignorance can indeed be
bliss.
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In the animal
sense cosmetic surgery means declawing, cropping ears, and clipping
tails. And they want to outlaw all of it. Removing their testicles
would be fine, but please, leave those claws alone. |
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Personally I like my linguistic ignorance. I’m perfectly
happy not understanding what most of Jerry Springer’s guests are
trying to say through their three remaining teeth. And I rather
enjoy smiling at a chattering two-year-old, then looking up at Mom
and knowing it’s her problem and not mine. That’s why I’m
pretty sure I don’t need to know that when Fluffy is sprawled out
on the floor like a frog with his head cocked left while clenching a
sock monkey in his mouth it means he thinks Nietzsche was wrong
about God being dead. Or is he actually asking for more Prozac?
There’s never a Dog-English dictionary around when I need it.
On the other hand
there would be plusses. If we did understand dogs we could find out
what’s so much fun about running after a stick for four straight
hours or why they circle three times before laying down. And once
and for all we’d find out if
they lick themselves for the reason we all think they do. Best of
all, it would mean Buddy, the First Dog, could have been subpoenaed
to testify before the Senate, telling them what he saw and heard in
the White House. Actually, it’s not his testimony I’m interested
in, it’s watching the chief of protocol go nuts trying to figure
out whether the witness should be addressed as Buddy, Mr. Clinton,
or Hey Mutt.
There are other
reasons being able to speak dog would come in handy. For one, it
would let us know where they stand on issues that concern them. In
San Francisco, the Commission of Animal Control and Welfare has
asked the Board of Supervisors to ban veterinarians from performing
cosmetic surgery. These aren’t operations in which they increase
the number of nipples on a female so she can attract males along
with lucrative movie roles such as Horny Bitch in the new James Bond
movie. Nor does it refer to giving face lifts to Sharpeis, tummy
tucks to St. Bernards, or fur-o-suction for weight loss. No, in the
animal sense cosmetic surgery means declawing, cropping ears, and
clipping tails. And they want to outlaw all of it. Removing their
testicles would be fine, but please, leave those claws alone.
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In 1996 Ernest, a 110-pound Bernese Mountain Dog from
California, ran for Congress as a write-in candidate. And got 2,001
votes. Not bad considering Coren’s book wasn’t out yet so none
of Ernest’s supporters had any idea where their candidate stood on
the issues. |
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This is the same agency that last year passed a resolution
calling on the city to eliminate the phrase “pet owner” in all
official documents and replace it with “pet guardian.” While
this may sound like a purely semantic discussion best left to Edwin
Newman and that host of the BBC show who can quote every syllable of
the Oxford English Dictionary while speaking as if he has a sausage
roll stuck up his butt, it’s actually very important. Imagine how
it would help your pet’s self-esteem to not think that they’re
owned. Unfortunately it would also open a can of worms bigger than a
jumbo size can of pet food. Before you know it your cat would start
demanding 9 Lives Hamachi Roll with Wasabi Gravy for dinner instead
of that Iams Crunchy Tofu With Granola for Seniors you keep putting
out. Then your parakeets will start insisting that you line their
cage with a better quality newspaper than the Star. And
finally the day will come that you tell your dog to “Fetch!” and
she’ll look back, wondering who the hell you think you are bossing
her around, and say, “Yo quiero revolución!” I’m
telling you, we don’t want to head down this road.
On the other hand, if
we could understand dogs we’d know where they stand on the issues
of the day. This would come in handy in case any of them decide to
run for president. I don’t mean to insinuate that the candidates
we have now aren’t dogs—you don’t have to look any farther
than the morning newspaper to realize they are—no, I’m talking
about the possibility of having a real live honest-to-goodness dog
run.
This isn’t as
farfetched as you might think, since in 1996 Ernest, a 110-pound
Bernese Mountain Dog from California, ran for Congress as a write-in
candidate. And got 2,001 votes. Not bad considering Coren’s book
wasn’t out yet so none of Ernest’s supporters had any idea where
their candidate stood on the issues, though I suspect that when
asked about preserving the redwoods he was all for it, not
understanding why anyone would want to get rid of the world’s
largest toilet grove.
Ernest died last year
so he can’t run again, but his success has inspired others. For
one, Al Gore has emulated him. Unfortunately he used Ernest’s
post-death rigor mortis days as his role model. But that’s not the
point. Gore understands we can learn from our canine friends. He
wants to open up a meaningful dialogue. And he’s not afraid to get
in touch with his canine side. At least I think that’s what he’s
saying when he tilts his head, cocks his ear, and pants.
©2000
Mad Dog Productions, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
These columns appear in better newspapers across the country. Read
them to your dog.
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