Dogs have many wonderful qualities that we dog-loving humans recognize and celebrate, but they also tend to get into some difficult, if not dicey, situations. It occurred to me this morning, after I woke from a not-so-great night of sleep, that perhaps the single thing that dogs have working against them is lack of impulse control. I say this because, last night, my Daisy could not resist loudly barking at something outside that had her on high alert. She could have sensed something, smelled something, and then emitted a low, guttural growl. In all reality, it would probably have been more effective at creating a sense of urgency. But she didn’t. Instead, she barked loudly (she is not a small dog) and paced from one set of windows to the next so that she could track the menace outside. Being a mere human, I don’t usually see whatever she sees out there, but she seems to puff up with pride when I acknowledge that she has. I didn’t see anything last night, but my guess is that it was a bear passing through. We have nothing to bait them, so it’s typically a trespassing issue that gets Daisy het up. Regardless, she did not score points by trotting around the bed barking at 3 am on a Sunday morning, the sacred day of sleep-ins. Frankly, she lacks impulse control and she’s not the first.
How many stories have you heard featuring a dog that cannot resist tangling with a porcupine or a skunk? Although mountain living has its fair share of both, our pups never got a muzzle full of porcupine quills. I cannot say the same about skunk encounters. Our black Labrador, Markus, never could resist them. Was it the cute little striped tail or the way they waddle? We’ll never know, but he came home on several occasions looking blinky and blighted, covered in stink. He was banished outside to await the dreaded basin of baking soda and Dawn dishwashing liquid that signaled the scrubbing. Markus endured the scrubbing with little humor which prompted the hope that, surely this time, he would have learned his lesson. That would prove to be untrue.
“ …what I saw left me speechless.”
Our Toby, that lovable chocolate Labrador, got bit by his lack of impulse control too. Toby had a penchant for leaning in while I was loading the dishwasher to sneak licks from the plates as I placed them on the rack. Sometimes, he’d even lick the silverware. There was no harm, thanks to the sanitizing setting on the dishwasher, so I made sure to put the knives pointing downward and never shooed him away from his pursuit of slightly soapy deliciousness. Over time, Toby’s dishwasher ritual had become routine and anyone loading the dishwasher was accustomed to having him participate in the process. All was well with this arrangement until one fateful day. It was one of those household chore days where there was laundry sorted into piles in front of the washing machine, banana bread in the oven, beds being stripped, and dishes being loaded into the dishwasher simultaneously. Hubby was loading the dishwasher, and I had ventured elsewhere to tend to other chores. I was scrubbing the bathroom when I heard a terrible noise. It was sudden and loud, like a train wreck. It stopped me in my tracks. It took a moment of being still and listening before I finally moved into action. I was heading toward the kitchen to investigate when Toby tore past me like a scalded cat, which only added to the horror I expected to find. As I sprinted toward the unknown calamity, I envisioned an entire shelf collapsing and imagined I would find a huge heap of broken bowls and plates, shards of crockery everywhere or perhaps every glass we own smashed beyond recognition. However, when I turned the corner, what I saw left me speechless. In the laundry room, just off the kitchen, the bottom rack of the dishwasher perched crookedly on a stack of laundry. Silverware, plates, and bowls spilled out and were mixed in with the laundry and splayed onto the floor. Beyond that was a trail of broken plates and bowls strewn across the kitchen. The dishwasher door stood agape, looking hollow with the lower rack missing. Shocked, I looked up at my husband, who was now holding a broom. “Wha-what happened?” I finally managed. As the story was told, I learned that Toby was performing his usual prewash duties when his collar somehow managed to get caught on the pegs of the rack. Getting snagged alarmed him and a struggle ensued: Toby vs. the dishwasher rack. Toby skittered backwards, taking the rack with him, pulling it clear from the base where it bumped against every surface, spilling out its neatly stacked contents. It was a dramatic scene and epic struggle, where Toby’s desperation increased with every second he was unwillingly yoked with the rack. He managed to get away when the rack came up against the laundry. Finally freed, he darted down the hallway in terror where I encountered him. Mystery solved. For weeks after that incident, Toby gave the dishwasher a sidelong glare as he hurried past the kitchen at a trot. As far as Toby was concerned, the dishwasher had played a dirty trick while he was simply giving into his harmless impulses, and he was not quick to forgive such a betrayal.
The point is, when you see a fly-eating dog occasionally snap at a spicy fly (bee) and suffer for it, or see a video of a dog that challenges an animal many times its size, do not blame it on the dog. Simply chock it up to their lack of impulse control, which is every dog’s nemesis, after all.
