They’re Good Company

Today was a tough day.  Very sad things going on for some friends of mine.  But, let’s see what we can talk about that’s not too sad.

Penny is our basset hound.  She’s one and a half years old so Camera Girl considers her a “puppy.”  Really, a psycho is what she is.  She attacks our German shorthaired pointer relentlessly.  I attribute most of this insanity to Camera Girl’s criminally lax dog training.  But I don’t rule out congenital brain abnormality as part of the answer.  Anyway, this dog dotes on me.  If she had her way, I’d spend twenty-three hours a day scratching her enormous ears and the voluminous folds of skin on her throat.  Suffice it to say she follows me around the house hoping for an ear rub.

But today I had to get into a suit.  White shirt, tie, suit jacket and pants, black leather shoes.  The whole thing.  I come down the stairs and she takes one look at me and goes berserk; barking and growling at me.  She doesn’t recognize me!  She’s dancing back and forth looking like she either wants to bite me or run away.  I’m yelling at her at the top of my lungs trying to get her to recognize my voice and calm down.  I’m also worried she’ll shake her jowls and splatter my suit with basset drool.  Finally, she runs into the living room while I go out through the kitchen door.

I came home four hours later and almost the same thing happens.  She’s barking and howling and carrying on.  So, I go upstairs and get changed and come down in my regular clothes and she stops and looks at me and acts confused.  She won’t come near me but she isn’t barking.  Slowly she shuffles closer, sniffing at my feet and looking hesitant.  Then finally she snaps out of it and accepts that it’s me.

Bassett hounds are supposed to be second only to blood hounds in their ability to recognize scents.  So, what the hell is wrong with this dog?  Now, sure I wear pretty much the same shirts, pants, shoes and socks every day.  But if I put on another suit of clothes, I’m unrecognizable?

What goes on in the tiny brain of this dog?  Apparently, I’ve become a very stable pattern in her mind and any small change to the details of my sensory image, whether scent, sight or sound immediately convinces her that it’s not really me.  Maybe she’s been watching one of the various versions of that classic of cold war paranoia, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”  Apparently today I became one of the pod people walking the streets, disguised as her favorite ear scratcher.

Well, all is forgiven again.  I spent the requisite five minutes scratching her gigantic heavy ears and telling he she isn’t a psychopath.  It’s all lies of course but we somehow have to get through the day as a family.  So, I’ll make believe she’s a good dog.

But I will say she helped me get out of the funk I was in.  Dogs are useful, even crazy ones.  They take your mind off of big problems at least for a few minutes and from what I’ve heard petting them even lowers your blood pressure.  Well, all the yelling I did probably had the opposite effect but either way she was good company.

Update

Ed Brault In reply to photog.

I’m the same way. My “Wedding and Funeral” Suit and my “Military Funerals” Class-A uniform hang in a zip-storage bag in the back of the closet.

As for the Basset, well, it must vary by the dog. I visited my folks after a tour overseas, and their St. Bernard, who hadn’t seen me in nearly four years, shot straight to my car, expecting me to take her to the beach, just like my last visit.

reply by photog

Yes, i think you’re right. It varies by the dog and this particular canine is a little high strung. Or just plain crazy, depending on your literary style.