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Dora was David Copperfield’s first wife of two, his second true love of three.
She was enchanting – a Fairy and a Sylph – with a delightful little voice, the gayest little laugh, and the pleasantest little ways. Girlish and graceful. A Dickensian ‘femme parfait’.
She had a little dog named Jip, who was her first and last true love. Her “Pet” and her “Dear”. A rambunctious small pug. So jealous of David, it snarled and barked at him; growled at David even when Dora reprimanded it on its short snout. Gave David the evil eye even as Dora squeezed it in her arms so lovingly tight.
As Cesar Milan taught, “Animal – Species – Breed – (Individual) Dog.” Meaning that we should understand or approach creatures – our dogs, for our purposes – as, first in priority, animals (and not as humans); then as a certain species of animal (the herbaceous herd animals like caribou and deer being different in nature to the solitary, omnivorous black bear or bearcat). With dogs as a species (or sub-species of the wolf) we have different breeds, and among the different breeds we see different natures and temperaments – a basset hound is different in nature and temperament and character from its near-relative beagle, for example.
But with all the variety of animals and species and breeds of dogs, there are still the infinite differences between each individually with regards to personality, characteristics possibly handed down mixed from the sire and dame, or handed down through both from generation to generation mingled. And we know that dogs, like all animals with personality, take on certain characteristics genetically.
But my concern has been how the dog is formed in its nurturing. How does the dog owner as leader and surrogate shape or mold the dog’s personality development?
More concerning: Does the dog react to the owner’s own personality, and take it on, in a passive way? Think on this: The dog does what I do – becomes the way I am – and does not as I say – doesn’t become the way I envision and train.
My four pups became in part individuals in ways I didn’t actively teach, that I didn’t try to train. They grew into dogs by feelings, by perceptions, by accident and proximity. They took on the surrogate – the model – in life.
In an old brick and mortar bookstore I saw a cute poster once: An owl snuggled against a stack of books stacked tall from floor to ceiling; in the thought bubble overhead he said, “I learn by osmosis.”
By taking in passively, with no give or take or effort.
My golden retriever Peppy was bullheaded, pigheaded, mulish, and special needs. She was a bully, but without pain herself. No amount of discipline – or punishment – would teach her a lesson. She would fetch sticks and balls and dummies till the cows came home, but would never retrieve a downed duck on the water.
Lucy the yellow lab was eager to please. She was tractable, which means teachable, meaning trainable. She had a compulsivity: She licked. When we approached new people I warned them, “Be prepared to be licked.” She got comfort from it, some relief from anxiety, like a nailbiter or teeth-grinder. And she had a curiosity that killed the proverbial cat.
Foxy the Brittany is indifferent to animals – dogs and humans – with personality. And intractable for that reason. Independent, and wanting no “rules, boundaries, limitations” (from the Dog Whisperer). But she has a low threshold for pain, discomfort or irritation. She sees it as limiting. She’s a crybaby (a howler, a yipper) when we clip toenails, or when she gets her toes in a rat trap.
As a little pup, Daphne, the English cocker, would sprawl bodily across my neck during naps; now she sleeps with her muzzle and hot breath on my face. She’s affectionate and completely imprinted on me, making her tractable, teachable, trainable. Confident when she’s with me, less so with other people or dogs; not scared – except for big dogs. Shy at times.
Some of the above characteristics are indicative of a nature. Some of the behaviors indicate nurturing.
But I’m afraid that some have been learned – taken on – by osmosis, without any direct training, or teaching or want.
Dora died very young, and her Jip stayed beside her in her dying bed. He stayed there some while after she passed, and then he died too, as though everything in his world had changed.
A poem might suggest the point…
Don’t just trust the arborist:
Wet years grow trunks out.
But healthy trees grow tallest
In Junes and Julys of drought.
Contrary thoughts, hidden truths,
The grower grasps year round.
The sod, by god, grows up;
The grass, so green, grows down.
You see, the father don’t know it
– His mirror reflects the sun –
The father don’t wrestle inside
Himself. He wrestles inside his son.
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