Just like people, animals have unique personalities and many ways they try to communicate with us. Some of those methods are more effective than others.
Mille, my geriatric fur-baby, is a yeller. I’m not sure she cares if I understand. If she barks loud enough and long enough, eventually I’ll stumble upon whatever it is she wants. I think that in her old age she’s become the dog version of the old woman hollering, “Get off of my lawn!” Only in her case it’s, “Get away from my food, and water, and MY mom, and well anything I decide that is more mine than yours.”
Then we have Zeke. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s telepathic. He stares at you with wide, soulful eyes until you either a) let him on the chair or bed, b) give him food, or c) pet him. He’s pretty darn good at it.
Last, but not least of the doggie crew is Marble. Remember good ol’ Lassie from the TV shows and movies? Yeah, Marble’s a lot like that. She does her absolute best to bridge that pesky canine-human language gap. She’ll “talk” to me when she’s really hyped up about something. It isn’t quite barking, and not a whine, but rather her dog version of pestering prattle, “OMG mom, are you ever, ever getting out of that chair? Take me for a walk, please????!!!! The dog next door peed on our mailbox and I need to leave him a reply.” She’ll nose her head beneath my hand and tug on me and basically act like Lassie when silly Timmy has fallen down the well again. She won’t quit until I follow her and figure out what she wants.
She isn’t a big barker really and she realized that telepathy didn’t work well. When I first got her, she’d stand by the back door and even if I wasn’t in the same room, just assumed I’d get the message that she needed to go out. With maturity came understanding, I suppose, as she’s clearly become much more adamant with her demands. She’s been known to pick up her food bowl and plop it on the floor near me if the usual requests were not fulfilled. “Mom, my bowl is empty. Fix this.” Otherwise, she’s pretty laid back. Come to think of it, if I were a dog, I’d be Marble, well, except for liking cold weather. In that regard, I’d be Zeke, who cuddles in bed 95% of the day.
So, I can understand her confusion when she asks for a walk and gets put in the backyard. She stands there staring at me. “That’s NOT what I said Mom, and I know you did not think I asked to go out. ”
She’s right, of course.