Dog Journal – Entry 176: Speak, Doggy

dog-3467268_640I’m not really the barky sort of dog, but I can carry on a good conversation with strange noises that go bump in the night. And I like to bark at the birds in the trees too, but not the squirrels, just the birds.

There’s one thing I’ve noticed about all the barking and talking and such things that we do every day all the time. Mostly, we do them with others, but I’ve found myself barking at myself in the mirror from time to time. The most obvious thing of all is that every one I meet seems to have a different technique to speak.

My friend next door is a really big dog with a bushy tail and is so fluffy that he pretty much just lays around during the hot summer days. It took a while to get used to him, but he always barks with the same rough ruff that just makes him sound so properly disciplined.

Then there’s this one tiny dog with a curly tail and big eyes and perky ears that runs around barking really really fast in a funny tone that makes it hard to understand. But I’ve gotten much better at figuring out when she’s angry at the squirrels and when she’s angry at the birds. But for the most part, she’s angry at something, it’s just the target that is attacked that changes.

Then there’s the cat, who just wants everything right meow. It’s either “me” or “right meow.” Not really much to get out of them, though they do tend to throw a hissy-fit when things do not go their way.

While my fellow fuzzy friends can be a little difficult to understand sometimes, it is far greater a challenge to comprehend what my bestest friend is talking about. She speaks to me, I’m sure of that, but the few words I know are just that… few. I know things like “park” and “dinner,” and things of the just like. But sometimes I wonder what the question was, and if I’d given the right answer to get to go to the park or some awesome thing.

Basically, I really need an interpreter if I’m ever gonna figure out exactly what she’s on about all the time. At the park, we pups will sometimes just sit and wonder about the strange things our peoples talk about. I’ve pondered a few ideas about who that “good boy” really is, but none of us can really put a paw on it.

While I can’t exactly figure out some of the things my friend tells me, it is apparent that my friend does like talking to me, and even though we don’t always understand each other, it is nice to have someone to talk to about anything at all.

There are definitely secrets to this speaking thing that I want to find out. I’m sure if I could only find out what they’re talking about, I’d know how to open the door and where the treats are stashed at.