For some of us, gifts of flowers, books, chocolates, or jewelry constitute our love language—how we express and want to receive affection—while others may prefer an intimate conversation while gazing at the sunset. In a relationship, if both partners share a love vocabulary, all is well. But if one likes the thrill of unwrapping packages while the other is a sunset and intimacy aficionado it can mean trouble. One of the important tasks in a relationship is for the lovers to become fluent in each other’s dialect of affection.
If love languages are tricky among humans, imagine the challenge when two different species are involved. I’m referring to dogs here, specifically Truffle. Faced with a baby-sized dog with a round head, tiny muzzle, and fur like the softest cashmere, the human impulse is to pick him up, smother him with kisses, and squeeze. This is the love language that our own infants thrive on, but it doesn’t work on a dog, no matter how small and baby-like.
Since his arrival in January, I have tried to learn Truffle’s love language. Although he tolerates my occasional kisses and cuddlings (I cannot always control myself), these are not in the canine vocabulary. But dogs, especially mother dogs with puppies, do lick each other, so I figure that gentle stroking might be a “word” that Truffle can understand. Dog friends sleep alongside each other, so I let Truffle nap with me. Food is the love language that dogs and humans are all too fluent in, which results in millions of obese dogs, so I have to be careful with that.
I let Truffle do a lot of sniffing during our walks, since I learned that sniffing is crucial to the health and happiness of dogs. As a human, I was clueless about this, and all my dogs before the last two I trained according to the system that said that the dog was supposed to heel at my side on a loose leash, no sniffing or interruptions of any kind allowed. Now I try to be patient, and practice standing on one foot while Truffle sniffs to his heart’s content.
A friend once said, “If dogs kept people as pets, wouldn’t you appreciate it if every once in a while they would let you be around other humans?” So I take Truffle to the dog park as often as possible. He doesn’t actively play with other dogs, but I believe that it’s good for him to be around his fellow canines, to sniff and be sniffed, and feel their auras or have his microbial cloud interpenetrate with theirs.
One love language that I shared with my prior dogs was play—chasing balls, tug of war, hiding toys for them to find. Alas, given the extreme deprivation of his former life, Truffle has no idea what toys are for. There remains training, which Truffle’s predecessors loved as much as they loved play. But the list of things that Truffle has had to learn—walking in a straight line as opposed to in circles, managing stairs, tolerating people, tolerating noises—and the number still to be achieved is so long that I sometimes lose enthusiasm. There is also the problem of his extreme sensitivity. If I’m teaching him to stay, for example, and he breaks, and I make the slightest sound of disapproval, he shuts down. I have never had a dog that was so cowed by gentle corrections, which makes me think that he must have endured a lot of yelling in the years before he came to me.
How does Truffle reciprocate my affection? There are several “words” of his that are easy to interpret. He now maintains eye contact, gazing at me soulfully with his weird eyes. He wags his tail, runs in circles, and does play bows when I come home. He lies on his side and offers his belly to be rubbed, and thrusts his head under my hand to be scratched. And when he’s feeling really affectionate he mouths my fingers with his toothless gums, which feels extremely odd. I appreciate all these and take them as loving gifts, but there is another way in which I wish he showed his love: I wish he would stop marking in the house. For all I know, though, peeing on table legs is an important word in his love vocabulary—just one that I haven’t yet understood.
One Response
That is a concern, that his former life was so destructive, you don’t want to use any of those methods.
I have no idea what I’d do, but it is lovely that you are both trying, and I hope the marking is NOT a love language.
Can you consult with a specialist about gentle ways to correct his worst offenses? Might be worth it.