Pack Animal

Iris and I are the kind of people who boldly live with another species. Most of the time, of course, we don't think of it this way.

But the fact is, we live in close quarters with a non-human. The species we live with is the one that has been camping right along side our crazy mixed up Neanderthal-loving selves for as long as we've been tossing out tidbits beyond the fire circle. That is to say, we have a dog.

Canis lupus familiaris.

The subject in question is pictured to the right. She looks innocent enough, I admit. Hardly big enough to qualify for that wild middle name. But day in and day out, she employs all that cuteness in the service of a hidden agenda.

And that agenda, according to dog experts, is twofold: food and safety. Dogs pursue this agenda by adhering to a military-like code. In their dreams, they run in packs, and in their waking hours, they apparently feel safest when they Live the Dream.

So, they turn any group into a pack. And, they must know who is the pack leader, the Top Dog. They must understand exactly their hierarchical relationship to that dog. And--here's the kicker--if the presumed Top Dog is not behaving Top Doggishly, they will make regime changing moves. They can't help themselves.

Meanwhile, back at our Cave Woman campfire, Iris and I are melting marshmellows and making S'Mores. Our idea of what we want to do with our little lupus is cuddle and play. We are not "into" discipline. That is to say, compared to our dog, Iris and I are pinko commie egalitarians. We think this is all fun and games, but it turns out that, with our every move, we have been confusing and confounding the pack-minded pup in our midst.

This has become abundantly clear to us, because she has been acting out. Making her moves, in other words. I'm going to spare you the details.

So this week, we've been all about asserting our Top Doggitude. We are Up and she is Down. Up and Down. At first, she was bugged. But, now, she's calm and peaceful. Which means we are actually living with a creature that likes being put in her place.

After all, she is a dog. We have to treat her like a dog, indeed, the lowest dog in the pack, in order to make her feel safe. And, of course, we want her to feel safe.

This is just about when I really notice how weird it is to be living with another species. What were we thinking?