Dog Pure Awareness blog

I just posted 5 more haikus by Chloe to see if they give us any insight into the way she relates differently to the various beings in her life.

The bearded human fears to see me grow.

He thinks I’ll dump his canoe.

6.

I cock my head and strain to grasp their meaning.

Alas!  they don’t speak dog.

7.

The trainer with the squirt bottle is to be feared.

She understands me.

8.

The little human with striped socks is a push-over.

She gives biscuits.

9.

The human keeps telling me to sit.

Let her sit! I have things to do.

Yes, we need to hear from Chloe. If Chloe only responds to “Bob’s” sneezing, we need to ask her what distinguishes Bob’s sneezing from Bev’s (or anyone elses). Now here is another thought: Bob is the male leader of the pack. Is it possible that his sneezing is more significant in some way to Chloe because he is the male leader? I know that Shiro treats Soren, the male pack leader, differently from the rest of us. And Bryce, before he died, responded differently to Soren also.

Meg, thank you for your kind and insightful words about the book. As you saw, I have great difficulty with death. I know that some people have reached an inner state of acceptance, but as much as I have studied and practiced spiritual traditions, I have not reached that acceptance. In the woods with Shiro I feel the oneness of everything and the sense that death is a return to that unity. But in the house, in the human world, I go into an inner state of fear when a close companion, dog or human, dies.

Anyway, I’m glad that my struggle with this, and Paul’s comment, helped with Henry’s death. Paul made that comment years ago and I never forgot it. Maybe (I am thinking out loud now) I should try writing more about the death of one’s dog. I know that many very good people have already done this, but another work from a slightly different perspective can’t hurt.

Here is Bev’s original comment that I am moving so that we can read it again:

This is an odd attunement instance. Our current dog, Chloe, a black lab/maybe border collie mix, (rescue puppy) is very intelligent and connected to both of us. She studies us when we talk to her, cocking her head as though struggling to comprehend our spoken language and file away the messages. Her oddest piece of “caretaking” ( and I know I’m anthropomorphizing here) occurs when my husband sneezes. Wherever in the house she is, she will rush to him, and attempt to climb in his lap and lick his face. Last night she was with me in the study, drowsing. My husband was in the next room, his back to us, but visible. Suddenly Chloe became alert, and started toward the living room. Then my husband sneezed – a whopper. She was instantly in his lap, licking his face. I think she must have been getting silent pre-sneeze vibes from his breathing, and was proactive in expressing her concern post-sneeze.

Joanna is of course right in her relational interpretation of the attunement sneeze. I think what confused me was that I don’t experience sneezes as disturbing, so I didn’t think of Chloe as tuning into the human’s upsetedness when he sneezed. (Let’s call the human Bob to make this easier to talk about). So Joanna is saying that Chloe’s response to Bob’s sneezing is like Sasha’s response to Joanna’s upsetedness on the phone, and I agree. If Chloe had had a traumatic experience as a puppy, and associated sneezing with danger, she would try to comfort or protect everyone who sneezes, and from Bev’s comment it seems that Chloe only goes to comfort or protect Bob, not anyone else. So, Bob must get upset when he sneezes, or have some feeling, some change in his inner world, that Chloe tunes into and interprets as his needing to be comforted or protected. 

Is this making sense? Do we need more facts, such as how Bob feels when he sneezes?

beauty

see Jennifer’s poem to Lucy in The Poetry of Dogs

by Chloe Houghton as intuited / transcribed by Beverly Houghton

1.

I feel my strong white grown-up teeth.

I snap twigs in two.

I’m called “mouthy”.

2.

That first night the human held me in her lap.

By now I am too big.

3.

I pulled the branch, but the hillside came too.

I didn’t know they were attached.

4.

My coat’s too wavy for my breed.

They all want to know my lineage.