We Have the Wrong Dog

We have the wrong dog.

Lately, at home we have been talking a lot about body language. We started out easy, using the dog. 

It’s hot on our walk to the dog park, and her tongue is out, that means..... She’s hot because dogs can't sweat....

Or she’s growling, that means....

The hair on her back is standing up like a mini mohawk, that means.....  

It can be guesswork, but really, she’s quite simple to read. 

I can do anything to this dog. She never barks or growls at me. We got her for Bradley. I was hoping for the type of dog that would tolerate lots of hugs, being carried around. Bradley lunges at her, rubs his face all over her tummy, practically mauling her with love. She hates it. We had to get a small dog because we lived in an apartment, and a teacher at the school was a foster parent to small dogs, so the ball just started rolling until we ended up with this cute little white dog with the biggest brown eyes.

I say to the boys, I can't read your mind. I used to think this was an unkind thing to say to someone, but it really is true… Bradley and Miles assume I know what they are thinking. And I am guessing they may think the dog can too. She can’t, and she says that by barking and wriggling away. Which makes Bradley sad and confused.

But when she does randomly let him pet her, they both feel the calm of connection. He is learning dog language and she is learning Bradley language.