Feed the Breed: The Beagle

September 1, 2023December 31, 2024 RilalyLeave a comment

“Ask not what your Beagle can do for you. Ask what you can do for your Beagle!”

When we purchase a puppy, any puppy, and bring them into our beloved home, it’s our natural inclination to focus on what that puppy can do for us. Some say that it’s a puppies job to bring love, happiness and an overall sense of joy into our home. We paid to bring him home, after all, and as with the purchase of a loofa, a barcalounger, or a toothbrush, we expect them to perform certain functions for us. If the puppy doesn’t perform to our expectations, we might even think of returning it. (Talking to certain employees at kennels, I’ve learned that this is a part of the business, as they offer a 90-day return policy to customers who aren’t happy with their purchase.)

His job is to play with us, cuddle with us, provide a general sense of companionship, and do all the things a puppy should do. If he fails to comport with how we think a puppy should act, we see it as a failure on his part, and we might seek professional assistance and advice for him. Most of us do not consider what we can do for the puppy to make them a happy, more well-adjusted dog who doesn’t mind comporting to our standards. We might give him a big backyard to run around in, toys galore, chew sticks, treats, companionship and love, and anything and everything we can think of that would make a dog happy, but we don’t think beyond all that to what we should be doing to build a symbiotic relationship with our new puppy.

“Feed the breed,” I now say. “Feed the breed.” I list this as a consideration for all dog owners to consider, but it’s specifically tailored to Beagle owners, because I have a Beagle, and I love Beagles. I write this for all dog owners who now see that that beautiful, little puppy they just brought home, who now plays in what we might consider an almost mean-spirited manner. There were times when my Beagle, Max, bit a little too hard during playtime, chewed up some of my precious items, wouldn’t leave the other dog in our home alone, and he was a naughty little boy so often that he added to some of the wrinkles and the grey hair we now sport. My puppy acted as if he was almost (and I normally hate to assign human characteristics to a dog) frustrated.

When I write, “Feed the breed,” I’m not suggesting that you feed your Beagle bunnies, or that you need to let them catch and devour bunny. When I suggest that you feed the breed, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to watch them feed. If you’re anything like me, it might make you uncomfortable to watch your beloved Beagle actually catch and devour a rabbit. I’m suggesting that you do some research on the breed you purchased and feed into the breeding of your dog.

When I went online, searching for answers to my naughty, little Beagle, I kept seeing this short characterization, “Beagles were bred to chase bunnies.” I didn’t think too much about it at the time. Prior to purchasing a Beagle, I owned a Puggle (part Pug, part Beagle), and that Puggle loved chasing rabbits. Among all the other things he enjoyed, he enjoyed chasing rabbits. So, when I saw that line, “Beagles were bred to chase bunnies,” I continued to skip it with an “of course” in mind.

Friends and family told me Beagles were hunting dogs, and I saw some evidence of it, but Max was purchased to be a family dog. I didn’t want a hunting dog. I wanted a cute cuddly, overly playful dog, and the fact that he happened to be a hunting dog, bred to chase rabbits, was to me an asterisk on the list of characteristics I found. I read it, and then I went onto reading all of the other characteristics I wanted to learn about more. Notice the emphasis on “to me” and “I wanted”. I wanted him to be what I wanted him to be, and I failed to consider what he might be in a larger context. I failed to consider the idea that a Puggle might love to chase rabbits for the sport of it all, but a Beagle needs to chase bunnies in a way that is (again, I cringe when I assign human characteristics to dogs) fundamental to his constitution.

We took him on those small, daily walks, fifteen minutes a day that every Beagle owner prescribes for those who want a happy dog, I noticed that he huffed every inch of ground beneath him. (A Beagle doesn’t sniff the ground, he huffs on it.) He still exhibited signs of frustration. We took him on more walks in other areas, and in those other areas there was some evidence of bunnies. Even with that, he remained the dictionary definition of a high maintenance dog. I could go through all of the various characteristics and incidents to illustrate how high maintenance Max was, but I think I can summarize my mindset with a comment I began making, “I think I made a huge mistake purchasing this dog.” I walked him constantly to get some of his energy out, and he spent a majority of the rest of his time outside, in our big backyard, running around playing and barking with the neighboring dogs. A human, knowing the general characteristics of a dog might think Max landed in a canine version of nirvana, but he was still always on, and he continued to be somewhat frustrated.

When I walked him, I walked him through our neighborhood, and the idea that he was bred for hunting rabbits was obvious. He would freak out when he occasionally caught some stray scent of a bunny, and I saw that, but I still didn’t catch on entirely.

It wasn’t until I made the decision to take a long walk into areas with a large bunny concentration that I saw the other side of Max. When he’s in rabbit-infested arena, Max develops tunnel vision. If humans approach him for a quick pet, Max doesn’t even acknowledge their existence. He’s in the zone. Other dogs run to the fence barking and wagging their tales, ready to play. They might as well be on another planet as far as Max is concerned when he’s on the hunt. When he catches a scent, he begins huffing the ground (as opposed to his usual sniffing), and there are times when he huffs the ground so hard that he begins sneezing (as often as twelve-to-fifteen times in a row, some of the times, blowing mucus and excess saliva all over the place). He pulls on the leash to continue to huff every inch of that select ground, and he pulls with all his strength on the leash to signify that he’s far from done with this area. On frequent occasions, he lays out on all fours to anchor himself to the ground, until he’s done covering every square inch of that scent.

One of the websites devoted to dogs wrote, “Beagles can tell us where bunnies were, but they’re not as proficient at telling us where they are.” This, in my humble opinion, is because they obsess over the ground where “they were” to the point that they might not be as concerned with where that trail leads.

When Max hits a trail that he knows a bunny has spent some time on, he yips, barks and howls en route to the suspected location. (Have you ever heard a Bloodhound’s howl? It’s that.) Max gets so loud that it can prove embarrassing, at times, as we might fear that unsuspecting and uninformed onlookers might think we’re beating our poor, little puppy. “Is he okay?” a concerned neighbor asked from the foyer of her backyard door. I saw her standing there seconds before, and I think she was watching my actions to see if I was beating my dog. The near-screams coming from Max were that intense.

“Thank you for your concern,” I waved. “He just caught the scent of a bunny.” She smiled politely and all that, but I could tell she wasn’t thoroughly convinced, and she slowly re-entered her home watching us to try to spot a reason to call the Humane Society on me.

My advice to the dog owner who might want to explore the extent of the characteristics of the Beagle, is make sure you carry dog water bottle on these walks, because your Beagle will obsess over these little areas to the point of excessive exhaustion and dehydration. The typical dog owner will want to move on after a while, but it can prove difficult, and almost impossible to convince your Beagle to move on. (Our new ritual of walking in bunny areas, can take a forty-five minutes to an hour.)

Prior to these long walks in rabbit-infested areas, we tried everything we could think up to make this dog happy. We even went so far as to consult his veterinarian, who told us that he was a puppy, and you should start to see these puppy characteristics subside around aged two. Well, aged two came and went, and he was still high-strung, mean-spirited, and he exhibited some levels of frustration. After these walks, which we do on average three times a week now, I’m happy to report that when I am eventually able to convince Max to move on and begin the long journey home. He returns to our loving home a more normal, less unstable, satisfied and less frustrated dog. By feeding into his breeding, I now have a dog who doesn’t get into things, bite too hard, or display any of the other naughty characteristics I’ve listed above. He’s now an exhausted, less frustrated, and satisfied dog.

Read the Breed

It’s human nature to expect a child, a dog, an entertainment system, or a loofa to perform according to our expectations. Unlike a loofa or an entertainment system, children can be complicated, frustrated, or dysfunctional in some minor ways that require attention or treatment. We know that, and that’s why we developed the aphorism, “Parenting is one of the hardest jobs in the world.” We don’t expect raising a dog to be as complicated. Yet, like children, to a far lesser extent, all dogs are different. Some are naughty, highly intelligent, and bred different.

Having written everything I have thus far, let me say that the idea of returning a dog, even one as obnoxious, high-strung, and even mean as Max could be on occasion, was the furthest thing from my mind. I know I’m different, but I would’ve considered that an epic fail on my part. I did my research not to find information to support my thesis that I made a huge mistake by purchasing him, but to find out how I failed and how to rectify it. I have heard tales of bad dogs though. If you have what you consider a bad dog, you think there’s something wrong with your dog, or you pointed your finger at the word frustrated and said, “It’s that,” or “I’m not sure if it’s that, but it’s something like that, that we’re dealing with here.” Bad dog, or something wrong with your dog, can be a description relative to the dog, their owners, or some complex combination thereof. Nobody is saying you’re wrong. There are bad dogs, just like I’m sure zoo keepers can probably tell us there are bad meerkats, bad, mean, or otherwise obnoxious butterflies, and otters. There are also, believe it or not, some bad humans, but with humans we often do extensive research before reaching a final conclusion. That’s the advice I would give all Beagle and dog owners, read the breed and feed the breed. Do some research on your dog, read through their characteristics to find out what makes them tick and feed into that to see if you might be able to use some measure to ease their frustration and make them happy before you reach some final conclusion on them. The best thing I ever did was learn more about my Beagle, and how I could feed into his breed to make him happy, because he’s done everything in his power to return the favor ever since.

The Good, the Bad, and the Beagle

July 21, 2022June 2, 2024 RilalyLeave a comment

“Your dog is a hunting dog,” some men say when they see a Beagle. “Seriously, they’re bred to hunt.”

“Really,” I say. “That’s interesting.” I found the characterization, or categorization, interesting. I heard it before, as I watch cartoons, but I dismissed it based on the fact that I’m not a hunter, and I didn’t think I’d witness those characteristics.

I owned a Puggle (part Beagle, part Pug) for over eleven years, and I named it Mr. Fehrley after the landlord on Three’s Company. Mr. Fehrley was the best dog I’ve ever owned. Loyal, obedient, easily trained, affectionate as all get out, and as fun as a dog could possibly be. If anyone is looking for a great dog, I don’t think you can do much better than the Puggle. I could be wrong, but I think Mr. Fehrley took the best of the Beagle traits and combined them with the cute, cuddly traits of the Pug.

I loved that Puggle so much that I wanted another one right after Mr. Fehrley’s tragic demise. My wife said that I would forever unfairly compare the new puppy to Mr. Fehrley. She was right, of course, as no dog could live up to the lofty plane I put Mr. Fehrley on.

If I wanted another Mr. Fehrley, the question was should I go Pug or Beagle? I’ve met some pugs, and I read about a whole lot more. While they are one of the more attractive dogs the consensus on them is that they are cute and cuddly lap dogs. They are characteristically loyal and affectionate, but their preference (according to the various websites on dogs) is to sleep. They enjoy sleeping by your side, on your lap, but they are just as content to sleep by themselves, as long as they’re sleeping. They will occasionally chase a ball around when they’re puppies. Older Pugs fall routinely fall into the 20-hour plus sleep routines of the normal dog.

The best dog I’ve ever owned napped a lot, but most of his characteristics lined up with the playful Beagle traits. If you loved those traits so much, I thought, why not go one step further and find out what a purebred Beagle might have to offer?

Over a year in, I’ve seen the documented loyalty of the Beagle in Max. He’s no Mr. Fehrley, but he’s probably as close as I could get with all of the other characteristics thrown in.

Max, while still a puppy, had boundless energy. Just when we thought we drained every ounce of energy out of this tiny dog, he regroups. He takes a break. He drops to his belly and pants it out, and then he’s ready to go all over again, usually within minutes.

As I suspected I didn’t see the hunting side of Max, and I never thought I would, until we took a trip to grandpa’s house. Grandpa’s house is in a small town, surrounded by acres of forested region. On the outskirts of that forested region, we spotted a deer.

Anytime Mr. Fehrley spotted something wild, his motto was “I’m game!” He spent his eleven-and-a-half-year existence chasing anything and everything just to do it and just to see what it was. He loved “the chase”. (He chased an opossum once, and he caught up to it, but he didn’t know what to do with it when he did.)

We could see Mr. Fehrley’s Beagle characteristics in the course of a chase, but the Pug characteristics appeared when he was easily dissuaded from pursuing it by our arbitrary definition of “too much”. If I decided this would be a fun hunt, and I did more often than not, Mr. Fehrley was game. He was all-in, as it were, but after a while, humans get tired, bored, or in other ways disinterested in the chase. A Puggle follows suit. “I get it,” they basically say. “It’s time to move on.”

A Beagle, as evidenced by this trip to the grandparents, and a couple of instances since, cannot flip the switch of their internal mechanism off as easily.

The quote “Your dog is a hunting dog” came back to me when I saw Max’s internal mechanism go primal. Mr. Fehrley whined and barked after squirrels, rabbits, deer, and any other being we saw through the course of his life, but his emotions dictated that he enjoyed chasing things more than anything else. He was a very curious dog and highly intelligent. Max’s reactions suggest he doesn’t want to just chase prey, he wants to rip the throat out of whatever is on the other end of this scent. His whining and barking are more of a primal, desperate cry to satiate the characteristics bred into his DNA.

It’s difficult to describe the distinction between a dog who enjoys the hunt, as if it were a game, and one who displays an internal, primal switch. To illustrate the difference, Mr. Fehrley chased hundreds of rabbits under chain link fences. He then dug fastidiously under the fence, and he whined while doing it, but after a time, Mr. Fehrley recognized the pointlessness of the exercise. It was cute and funny to see him display all of these characteristics. Max did all of the same things, but at the point when Mr. Fehrley would recognize the pointlessness of it, Max attempted to bash through the fence, headfirst, twice. If I didn’t pull him away, I suspect he would’ve harmed himself in the pursuit.

The men who told me Max was a hunting dog said it was why humans bred them. We all knew this. We know this about our German Shorthairs, our Pointers, and the various retrievers we call our best friends. We know some dogs are bred for hunting, but until we see it firsthand, we don’t truly know it.

Mr. Fehrley ran to the extent of his talent to capture the goal, but he never came close to achieving it. Max is so fast and so quick with his change of direction speed that if I let him off the leash, I can only guess that he wouldn’t stop until he ended the life of whatever it was he was chasing, and he’ll come back with a bloody beard when he’s done.

I let Mr. Fehrley off the leash to chase his intended victims, because I knew he’d stop when I ordered him to, and he’d always come back. I’m almost positive that the moment after I let Max off the leash, I’d never see him again.

I flirted with letting him off the leash once, but there was a fairly busy thoroughfare a quarter of a mile away. Just seeing what I saw that day at the grandparents’ home, I know Max would go to that thoroughfare and beyond it if that was required to catch his game.

The Passion of the Beagle

Dogs love their masters in a general sense, defined by the way they greet us at the door, the way they enjoy being pet, and in all the ways a dog expresses love. If we were to define love, in this sense, we would define a Beagle’s love as passion. The French have a term joie de vivre, which basically means to express a cheerful enjoyment of life, an exultation of spirit, and a general sense of happiness. To watch Max go through life, one gets the feeling that they’re not enjoying life to the fullest. Everything is the greatest thing that ever happened to him. When he greets you at the door, it’s as if you’ve been gone for a year, and he curdles under your touch when you pet him. When you pick him up, he wears a full doggie smile, coupled with a quick lick to your nose, and a wriggling that suggests he wants you to put him down. If you abide by what you consider his wishes, he tries everything he can to get back up. He wants to sleep with some part of his body touching you, and he even sleeps passionately, which you learn if you move your leg. “I’m sleeping here,” he growls. Most dogs love to play chase the ball, but of all the dogs I’ve owned, no dog plays chase with more zest, zeal, and passion than the Beagle. When he greets a stranger that you’ve acknowledged in some way, he passionately pursues their affection in ways that can, at times, prove embarrassing. If you watch him in your backyard with seemingly nothing to play with, he races around in the yard, in a manner some call the zoomies. I’ve watched him chase nothing for a good ten minutes as top speed with no break. I’ve watched him flip a stone up in the air and chase it around for a couple minutes, then he rolls his back on it, flip it up and repeat for an unusual amount of time.

Max is the most passionate and affectionate dog I’ve ever owned. He’s as loyal as any in-the-home, domesticated dog I’ve ever encountered, much less owned. After a year of ownership, I thought I knew him as well as any dog I’ve ever spent every day with for a year. I’ve owned a Cain Terrier (a Toto) who surprised me by digging so deep into a ground squirrel’s hole that I was reminded my cute, little fuzzy buddy was a carnivore. I owned a Puggle who showed me what he was bred to do, but neither of those two dogs could prepare me for what the Beagle wants to do, how badly he wants it, and what he might do if he catches it.

If you’re in the market for a dog, the Beagle is one of the most beautiful dogs you’ll ever see, and they’re one of the best family dogs on the market, but they’re also listed as one of the best hunting dogs by many other outlets. If you want to buy a Beagle for evidence of the former, but you don’t want to see evidence of the latter, my advice is never take them out of your city neighborhood. Doing so, might lead you to see a side of them you don’t care to see. I enjoy it all to a limited extent. You can call me a soft, city-dweller if you want, but I must admit that I was not ready to see the extent of my Beagle’s ability as a hunter. Now that I see it to the extent that I know it, I’ve learned how to feed the breed to make him happy.

Beagle Buyers Beware Beelzebub Boy

December 7, 2021March 17, 2024 RilalyLeave a comment

“Aww, look at the little fella, how can you call him the spawn of Satan? He’s so cute!”

Max is a beautiful Beagle. He is well-marked with long, thin legs, and he has that award-winning Beagle arch. He has a dog-smile on his face almost twenty-four seven, and he has an excellent disposition.

The idea that a breeder would sell him for a third of what his brothers and sisters were going for confused us? The breeder said she could only guess that most Beagle fans want a female, or they want a Beagle that was more white than black coloring. She said she was as confused as we were. My best guess, four months in, is that the potential buyers knew more about Beagles than we did. My guess is they know, like we all do, that although all Beagles are high energy, very intelligent and stubborn, there’s always one in the litter who is a little more of all of the above. My guess is that they sensed that Max might be a little crazed, and they know to be wary the runt of the litter. My guess is they know that the runt of a Beagle litter, more than any other type of dog, might just be the spawn of Satan.

Those in our house who don’t close their bedroom door know that something they hold dear will be ripped to shreds within the hour. We know that it’s in our best interests to keep him on-task, interested and engaged, because if he grows bored in any way, he’ll fill the void.

“Give a Beagle little to no exercise at your own peril,” Beagle experts warn. Okay, but how much exercise does the average Beagle need? Whatever that number is, go ahead and triple that for Max. We walk him twice a day, play with him constantly, and we have a huge backyard that he spends most of his day in, zooming back and forth in at top speed, and it’s never enough. If you don’t know what the zoomies are, get a Beagle

After he spends a good ten minutes zooming back and forth, you might think, as we did that he’d come back in exhausted, spent, or physically satisfied. He comes in jacked up, jamming a toy in our face, ready to play for the next half-hour. A half-hour doesn’t seem like that much, until we learn that it’s a minimal requirement for him on a daily basis. Four months in, we’ve yet to see him pant with exhaustion. My high energy, high functioning child can’t keep up with this dog.

“They’re hunters,” experts say. “They’re have a strong sense of smell.” Most dogs walk with their heads up, but Beagles walk with their head down because they don’t want to miss a scent. I’ve yet to see Max take more than ten steps with his head up. When I leaned over to watch his schnoz in action, the rapid speed of his nose touching ground reminded me of a hummingbird’s wings, moving so fast it’s almost hard to see. If we dabbed some paint on the end of his nose, we could probably use it to find our way back home.

We’ve had him roughly 120 days, and I’ve probably pulled 100 things out of his mouth. A sample includes hair scrunchies, innumerable COVID masks, already been chewed gum (more than six times), other dogs’ waste matter (more than ten times, and one of them was stomach churning long!) a wide variety of plastic items, coins, candy, various parts of whatever carcasses he finds along the way, and day’s old, rotting rice. That’s a very small sample of what I can recall pulling out. He’s like the bull shark of dogs, he’ll eat anything and everything, and he growls angrily when I pull it out. He also bites at the hand that feeds it, or unfeeds it by pulling trinkets out.

I know a dog’s sleeping patterns are probably as relative as humans, but this dog rarely sleeps. I can count, on one hand, the number of times that he wasn’t up for at least nine hours straight. Nine hours doesn’t seem like much in human terms, but imagine trying to entertain a high energy, high functioning dog for nine straight hours. When he’s up, he’s not watching TV, looking out the window, or playing with his toys. Max knows how to play by himself, and he does, but he gets bored easily and very quickly. The time between one stretch of playing time and another, takes about as long as your sigh of relief. When he gets bored, he gets into things, causing trouble, and doing anything and everything he can to gain our attention. One day, he was up for eleven straight hours without a nap. Needless to say, it can be exhausting and frustrating, and it can consume your life.

Most dogs are on our schedule. When we’re ready to play with them, or entertain them in any way we dream up, they respond eagerly. I understand and appreciate the fact that puppies are more energetic than adult dogs, but even most puppies sleep until you’re ready to play with them. Not this guy.

When I searched for a new puppy, I put together a mental checklist. I wanted a playful dog (check), I wanted him to be high energy (check, check), I wanted him to always want to be around me (check), and I wanted a dog who wanted to sleep on my lap while I watched TV (check). I got everything I wanted in this dog and then some, but it’s the “and then some” that I’m writing about today. The “and then some” portion occurs after we’ve played ball for 15-20 minutes, and he’s racing the ball back to me with as much speed and energy as he had when we started. I know, I know, the puppy thing, but it’s impossible to exhaust this dog. I’ve yet to see him run out of energy.

I read all of the “read this before you buy a Beagle,” warning lists. I read literature stating that due to their high level of energy, their nose, and their heightened sense of adventure that the owner will need to keep them leashed them at all times, and that they will want to kennel train them immediately after bringing them home, because a Beagle needs to be kenneled when they sleep and when their owners leave. Doing anything less is just asking for trouble. I read all that from what I considered a knowledgeable perspective. I owned a Puggle (part Beagle, part Pug), so I thought I knew what I was getting into. I don’t know if the Pug characteristics softened the Beagle traits in my previous dog, but I wasn’t ready for this fella.

He is a good puppy, and he will eventually be a great dog. He runs and plays keep away with the neighborhood kids. He greets every new person as if they’re the greatest person on Earth. He loves meeting kids and other dogs, and he has a very sweet disposition, but he is CONSTANTLY on.

Walking him is an excellent workout for anyone who wants to focus their workouts on their forearms, as he wouldn’t know a straight line if he tripped over it. Every dog I’ve owned went from two pulls on the leash, as a puppy, to one pull as a full grow adult dog. The average walk with Max reminds us of a dance step, “It’s one step, two step, pull, pull, pull, three step, four step, pull, pull, pull.” If he’s mildly interested in something, it might require three tugs on the leash, but if he’s intensely interested in something, and this usually happens two to three times a walk, I have to pull him from it with great force. At this point in his puppyhood, I am the only one in the neighborhood who can walk him. No one else is focused enough to distract him, when necessary, as often as it’s necessary to prevent him from ingesting something he shouldn’t, and no one is strong enough to keep him in line when required. And it’s not as if he’s heavy, because he’s not, but even twenty pounds becomes taxing after the rigors of repetitive motion begins to kick in. He exhausts kids as easily as adults. A discarded, half-full milkshake cup required so much pulling that I almost considered calling for assistance.

I’ve read some Beagle owners write, “Toughen up buttercup!” when a Beagle owner complains. And they add, “You should’ve known what you were getting into. You should’ve done your research!” I thought I had. I read all the literature I could find on the breed, and I prepared my friends and family for him, but I now think I was the least prepared of all because I thought I was.

Maybe Max is an anomaly, and that might be my fault. I love playing with dogs, and I can get rowdy, so it’s possible that I jacked him up to another level. From what I read now, from my current perspective, I don’t think so. Maybe I’m not disciplined enough to keep Max disciplined. Maybe I’m just not a very good trainer. This is not only possible but plausible, but I ask the novice, dog enthusiast how many of us have the time, patience, and discipline necessary to train such a dog?

“My college roommate had a beagle,” a friend, who purchased a Freagle (French bulldog, Beagle mix) told me. “I said I would never buy a Beagle after what I saw that dog do. That dog got into everything. Every day there was something new with that dog.” I wish I would’ve talked to her first before purchasing this one. I might not have listened, but I probably would’ve been better prepared.

This warning is being sent out to those who are interested in purchasing what I consider the most beautiful, friendly, and loyal breed of dogs, be careful what you wish for. You might have more energy than I do, and you might love dogs so much that you’re willing to spend hours with that dog entertaining him, and if you do, you’ll absolutely love the experiences you have with your new, little pooch 80% of the time, but you will run out of gas eventually. They won’t.

Chapter Two: Emotional Intelligence

“Dogs just want to make their owners happy,” a friend of mine said one time when I was complaining about my dog (a cairn terrier named Tyler).

“My dog doesn’t give a turd if I’m happy, he does what he wants” I said. “I appreciate what you’re saying, as I think you’re right with most dogs, but some dogs do whatever they want.” Through the three dogs I’ve owned I maintained that argument without a good argument. I just knew that the three of them responded to me differently, and I maintain that saying ‘all dogs just want to make their owners happy’ is a simple argument that suggests that all dogs are simple. I developed an argument based on an article I read that suggested, “Dogs, like humans, have varying degrees of emotional intelligence.” It sounds like something your stoned uncle would say at the campfire, or that thing your lunch bucket co-worker said after he read a book.

If you believe her argument I would ask, have you ever tried scolding a dog for misbehaving? I’m not talking about physically disciplining a dog. I’m talking about verbally scolding them. Their theory holds that if you’re happy, they’re happy. I challenged that theory when I first heard it, but I kind of believed it for most of the decade I owned Tyler. Then I met a Puggle named Fehrley. When I scolded Fehrley, it appeared to hurt his feelings. For the most part, Fehrley’s self-esteem appeared based on what I thought of him. If he did something wrong, and I was disappointed in him, he not only displayed feelings of shame, he never did that thing again. My current dog Max, like Tyler, doesn’t appear to care too much what I think.

Both Tyler and Max put their heads down and stopped doing what they were doing in the moment, but they forgot about it soon after the drama/trauma concluded. Fehrley remembered. Does this mean that Fehrley was more intelligent than the other two? I don’t think so. I think Max might be the most intelligent of the three, but he’s clearly not nearly as sensitive as Fehrley was.

If you told me that dogs are sensitive, I might’ve agreed with you to an extent. I probably would’ve said that I think you’re overplaying your hand, but I’ve seen evidence of what you’re saying. After owning three different dogs, however, I now have a fully-formed and well-informed opinion on the matter. Mr. Fehrley was clearly the most sensitive of the three. He was more proud when he did something that earned a reward. He got far more excited over the prospect of going bye-bye, a treat, and the prospect of experiencing something new. He was more ashamed of doing something wrong, and as a result he learned how to comport himself accordingly for more freedom and more happiness. He was also less impulsive and more calculating based on rewards and punishment. Was he more emotionally intelligent than the other two dogs I’ve owned?

As a writer who tries to avoid foo foo as often as I can, I hear people say that we underestimate the intelligence of animals. “Foo foo,” I say. I think we overestimate their intelligence so often that we begin to believe it. In movies, we see dogs respond to complex human conversation, and we laugh, and we believe that dogs can understand human conversation. So, in real life, do they pretend they can’t. We see dogs in cartoons act in a very human manner when we’re not around, and we wonder if they do that in real life. We say it as a joke, over and over, until someone says, “That’s funny, but you don’t believe it do you?”

“Well, why not?” they ask. “Who’s to say dogs aren’t far more intelligent than we can conceive?”

I don’t believe dogs are more intelligent than we think, but I reserve some space on every issue for fallibility.

We hate to compare animals to children. It’s unfair, inexact and tedious. Yet, we all do it. As I wrote, Max appears to be the most intelligent with his ability to create his own situations, the ability to adapt, and the way he pays attention to things. I’ve never owned a dog who heard a plane fly overhead and watched it, and he’s done that more than twice. He appears to be trying to figure it out. I’ve never owned a dog who looked up. They might stop whatever they’re doing and look out momentarily, but then they go back to what they’re doing. Max looks up and continues to look up for about three seconds. Is he trying to figure out what it is? Who knows, but he’s definitely more curious about it than any other dog I’ve owned, and I equate curiosity with intelligence. He watches TV longer than any dog I’ve owned. He saw images of dogs on the set run right to left, and he looked at the spot beyond the TV to see what, if anything, would come out. He also studies me and my reactions longer than any dog I’ve owned, but he doesn’t appear to care near as much as Mr. Fehrley did what the end result of my reactions are.

As evidenced by Max, I think our relative definition of their intelligence is based on how acutely they study us. If you are the head master, lead dog, or alpha in their lives, their emotions are dependent on yours. I know now what subtle cues I give when I’m angry over relatively innocuous things, like a driver waiting too long to turn right on red, by how Max reacts to my subtle displays of frustration, impatience, and anger. When it’s obvious it’s obvious, but most of us offer subtle cues of emotion, and Max is acutely attuned to all of mine. He looks back at me, ears slightly perched, waiting for me to inform him that my display of emotions have nothing to do with him. Is that a display of general intelligence, emotional intelligence, or a greater sense of awareness. I don’t know, but some dogs have it more than others.

My evidence for the intelligence of dogs is based on the last three I’ve owned. Mr. Fehrley was the most sensitive of the three, but where does sensitivity rate on the intelligence scale? Max is by far the most curious and aware, but where do these traits rank on the same scale? Are dogs more intelligent than other animals. Some suggest that the inability to train/domesticate an animal is a sign of intelligence. If that’s the case, the cat is smarter than the dog, but part of training involves praising and/or scolding. A cat, generally speaking, does not respond to training, so are they more intelligent or less sensitive? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but prior to owning three dogs of varying intelligence, I must say that I’m more interested in this discussion and more open to hearing the various where, when, and why’s of how I’m wrong.