Every afternoon, I am drawn to the light hitting the windowsill in the guest room, the lace curtains stirring in the wind, the flowers Maria places around the house like the art elf she can be. There is something comforting about this, something stirring, reassuring. The window is a portal, life moving in and out, year after year. When I am afraid, I stand by the window and see the fear blowing on the window, a little bit at a time, weakening again and again as it moves through the flowers.
Red and Connie Brooks of Battenkill Books. Most of the most popular books on dogs have the dogs speaking to us in mystical language, are recounting how wonderful we are for rescuing their piteous selves, or are telling us how to meet them across that colorful bridge for all eternity. One day I want to write a book about what I believe is the extraordinary dialogue between animals like dogs and women.
Many of the dog lovers I meet are absolutely convinced that they know what their dogs are thinking and feeling – the animal world is a gathering place for know-it-alls. They are less interested in what the dogs are doing than in what they need the dogs to be doing (separation anxiety and grieving projections come to mind). I am happy to tell you that much of the time, I have no idea what my dogs are thinking and I have met very few people who have convinced me that they do either.
A new dog is an opportunity for me to take another step in awareness, both in training and in my understanding of how animals communicate with people. This has become my interest, something I have been studying for years with my dogs, cats, donkeys, sheep, even chickens and began exploring in “New Work Of Dogs.” Animal people love to cite studies, but I found early on that there are studies supporting every conceivable point of view about animal communications, thousands happily and authoritatively contradicting one another.
We believe, I think, what we need to believe.
Red is the most powerful chick magnet I have seen since Lenore was a puppy. He has been here a week and he has girlfriends all over Washington County. There are a dozen places I go already where Red’s mostly female friends are disappointed if he isn’t with me.
I have been paying close attention to this and see a number of things that are revealing to me. When Red enters a space, he almost immediately looks for a woman to connect with. If there is one female and a dozen men, he will go to the woman. The women are always quicker to react to Red than most men. They are more comfortable revealing their emotional selves, and this is Red’s gift – he picks up on it.
They smile, or react verbally: “what a sweet dog,” or “hey there,” or “cute puppy.” Their voices go up and so do Red’s ears. Many women lean towards him, kneel down to his level, bend down. Few men do that. Women show emotion to him, and he responds to emotion very distinctly. Although he is powerfully bonded to me, his relationship with me is different. He shows affection, as dogs do in their packs, by being close to me. But he only occasionally puts his head on my knee or seeks a physical response.
Women are drawn to the way Red presents himself. He appears to be sweet, vulnerable. He makes eye contact (as he does with sheep) and holds it. His hears go back, he lowers his head. This signals people that he is gentle, a bit needy, affectionate.
I think many women – Maria comes to mind – intuitively know how to communicate with animals, even if they sometimes aren’t sure what the animals are saying back. I think women and men both tend to emotionalize animals – this is epidemic in our culture – and think dogs are saying the same things to them that they are saying to the dogs. I don’t think so. I’ve never thought so. But what are they saying? What does Red want from these people, especially these women?
I think Red is a creature of intense and powerful instinct. Like Izzy, he responds to voice, to emotion, to attention and need. This week, I was struck again by how distinct women’s emotions are as compared to men, and how Red sees a kind of safety and connection in that. I suspect he has found coherence and safety in women like Karen Thompson, not in men. If I pick up a stick for any reason, and watch him cower and run, I get yet another lesson in this. Men can sometimes be a plague on the earth. Red almost seems to be asking me in his own language, beyond my comprehension: Is this what you want? Am I safe here? Is this how it works? Clearly, he is seeking reinforcement. Safety keeps coming to mind.
If I’m not yet sure what the specifics of the dialogue are, I am getting closer all the time. I know what women are saying to Red. I am not confident about what he is saying back, or in what language or form.
We are bringing Strut into the Bedlam Farm Men’s Support Group. The membership so far includes a man, an ass, a red-coated border collie and a rooster. I got here first, but this has clearly become a women’s place.We need some fellowship. The art show this weekend was called “Anointing The Goddess,” and the farmhouse has definitely gone woo-woo, rocks, alters, flowers and charms everywhere. Then there’s the residents: Maria, Mother, Minnie, the two hens, Oprah and Shirley Partridge, Lulu and Fanny, Lenore and Frieda. Eight ewes, one ram. A lot of strong women.
Most of the men have been put in their place. Lulu and Fanny kick Simon in the head several times a week, if not daily. I often tell Frieda that she is the only real man in the house. The other animals get out of her way. Mother and Minnie are both marauders, the scourge of chipmunks, mice, moles, and birds. As for the humans, I am learning to do what I am told. I married a woman who is part German, part Sicilian. I thought she was very quiet when I first met her, but she is not. She has had quite enough of domineering men in her life, and does not care to take orders.
My mother-in-law was here over the weekend and she asked me why Maria’s sheep give Red such a hard time, butting and kicking him when he tries to herd them. The other sheep, those in the meadow, do what he wants. Well, that’s easy, I said. They are Maria’s sheep. They don’t like being told what to do. I told Red maybe if he asks them nicely and explains what he wishes to accomplish they might stop smacking him around. Red looks like a wolf when he herds, but he is a sweetheart, unfailingly polite even to belligerent ewes. He is a sweetie.
Of all of the men, Strut seems the most enthusiastically and unabashedly male, a throwback really, a symbol of another time. He guards the chickens, climbs on them repeatedly to fertilize their eggs and puffs himself up like a feathered Mussolini all day, crowing to announce his presence. He is quite full of himself. None of the rest of the men on the farm would get away with this for a second.
The animal world has its own customs and cultures, and even there, things are not clear-cut. Strut tried to mount Oprah, the big Brahma, today and she turned around and knocked him on his feathers. He got up, shook himself off and tried to crow a bit, but she just pecked him in the head and he strutted off.
He’s ready for the Bedlam Farm Men’s Support Group.
Red is walking on the path with the other dogs now, and he runs ahead, sniffs, runs around with Lenore. It is nice to see this trio. Today was an interesting today. A woman came to the farm to see if she wants to buy it and live here. We liked her a lot. She runs a respected dog therapy program and that would be just the right kind of person Maria and I would wish to have Bedlam Farm. We’ll see. She thought Red might make a good therapy dog – she also saw her work the sheep – and I told her it would be magical if he and I were her first students at the farm.
Two days ago, I wrote a letter from Red to Karen Thompson, the wonderful breeder and human who gave me Red. Last night, Karen sent me a letter back and Maria and I were both left with wet eyes. This is a story of sweet souls, creatures of the heart. Karen calls Red a Soul-Toucher, but that is just what she is. She is a warrior for love and shows us that is selfless at its best. I will read it to Red, and I don’t believe he knows the words, but he will get the feelings:
“Dear Red, my dearest soulful lad, you know that often we humans need the aid of a special, insightful furry transitional one to show us the way. I know you know how to lay for hours contemplating the thoughts and movements of the animals in the surrounding fields. We humans can learn from you that often what appears as idleness is really an act of absorbing that which is in our sights. Rare souls like you, my dear one, teach us to “let go” of the negatives in life, and seek that which is uplifting and radiates of kindness.
In you, Dear Red, I saw a grand example of living grace where your past pains were kept in the past, and you simply expected kindness, and you gave and give kindness. Yes, you said and you say “life is simple embrace, it’s good!” Red, we humans can learn a lot about dedication to purpose, honesty, and loving absolutely without reservations those whom we encounter on our daily sojourn. I know you know this deep within your being, however I need to verbalize it. You have touched and continue to touch my soul, as you and Jon travel daily exploring the inner workings of the unique bond between the human person and four-legged companion. I loved you enough to let you go There were those who didn’t understand how I could do it, but perhaps they are learning, and smiling now.
In Faith, Karen.”
