Doors and Canine Rites of Passage

Cochise, on DST, doors
Cochise tells the tale

Peoples love doors.

They have doors EVERYWHERE.  But doors get in the way of us doggers.  Most of the time, we cannot open these doors and must “request” assistance from the Peoples if we are to pass through.  So we learn signals to alert the Peoples of our need.

I bark.  Just once.  Loud and sharp.  Blondie Bear scratches on the metal part of the door.  We teach these signals to our paduan learner foster dogs, they choose which they prefer.  Or … come up with something of their own.  Many start out with sitting on the porch staring at the door, willing it to open.

That doesn’t work.

One howled.  But it was such a piteous sound that it was more of a mournful wailing than a howl.  It was effective though.

Volt’svolt, doors hound dog accent turned his bark into a “Baroooo” sound that was amusing.  But it opened doors.

Josephine has chosen to emulate me.  She started with a feeble nose-whistle, whiny sound, but I straightened her out so now she gives a stout “yip”: “I’m here, let me in”.  She’s a 25 pound Beagle; she can’t manage the timber or volume that I, an 85 pound bully breed, can.  But it works.  What’s funny is that if someone does not appear in 20 seconds or so to open the door she repeats the command but manages a more commanding tone, “NOW”.  I’ve read that Beagles can be kind of bossy.  I’d say that’s true.

Julian has taken up Blondie’s example and scratches on the door.  But to make it his own he puts a little Boxer oomph into it so the scratching sounds more like steel being rent apart.

Shiloh has recently taken an interest in finding out where we all go when we’re not “outside”.  Today she got to find out.

After lunch, HairyFace took Jules and Josie and went out to fetch the mail.  Shiloh joined in as they escorted Hairy to the Low-Corner gate, where he exits the yard to go on down to the hard-road and the mailbox.

While he was out there it started to rain.  Everyone scrambled for cover.  Instead of all going into Shiloh’s pen (plenty big enough for all and has a roof) they chose to pack into the cabin!  That was  a tight fit.

When Hairy came trotting up the hill they fell in behind him, headed for the back porch, and scooted inside when he opened the door — including Shiloh.

Hairy ushered her back into Julian’s crate, “This is how it works at first. We’ll try a play time later when you can come out if you and Julian will behave.”

It’s been a while now, and Shiloh is still quiet and calm in the crate.

She’s no dummy!

About Doug

Jesus follower, writer, gardener, Sci-Fi fan, Beagle herder, occasional author, mountain man. My dogs think I'm a super-hero.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *