Go have a chat with Old Blue ~ September 19, 1996

David Heiller

When I come home from work, I am always greeted by our two dogs, Ida and MacKenzie. .

They have different personalities. Ida, age seven, is part collie and part flugel-hound (a little bit of everything). And she is shy.

If Ida were a teenage girl at a dance, she would try to blend in with the wallpaper. She probably wouldn’t dance if you asked her.

Queen Ida, David, and MacKenzie.

Mack, on the other hand, would be the life of the party. She would be doing the Mack-areena. She is a three-year-old Australian shepherd, friendly and playful, with a coat like silk. Her nickname is Happy.

You couldn’t find two dogs more different than Mack and Ida. But they have one thing in common. They both are fun to talk to.

That’s the subject I am getting at here: talking to your dog. It’s one of life’s simplest pleasures.

When I get home from work, I often drop my briefcase and camera on the grass and lie down and let the dogs crowd around me. That’s when they are most alike. They both crave my affection, both nuzzle and lick me and wag their whole bodies in pure dog joy. That’s when they live up to their claim as Man’s Best Friend.

And that’s the best time to talk to them, to ask them how they are doing and tell them how nice they are and how much you love them and what good girls they are.

I can’t repeat the exact words here. It would sound too dumb, too childish. But, if you have a dog, chances are you know what I am talking about.

You can talk to other pets too, but none will return your affection with the look of love that a dog gives.

If you are sick, MacKenzie will keep you company.

It seems the harder my day at work is, the more I like to talk to them. There’s something about lying on the grass, looking up at the leaves in the maple tree, seeing the blue sky beyond that, and petting and talking to the two dogs that is hard to beat. It’s good therapy. It can put my orneriest mood on a back burner in a matter of seconds. It’s just one of many reasons why it’s good to have a pet.

Sam Cook, a columnist for the Duluth News Tribune, recently wrote a column about this. He said he has been accused of talking more sweetly to his dog than he does to his wife.

I’m guilty of that too. I think it’s because dog don’t understand the words you say, so you can gush a little and repeat yourself and give them big pats and not be afraid of making a fool of yourself.

Queen Ida was always willing to 
shake a hand and have a visit.

A few months ago, I was saying goodnight to my daughter, and I told her, “You’re a good girl.” It sort of slipped out, just like it does when I talk to the dogs, and it sounded like I was talking to one of them and not my daughter. She even sensed that and said, “Dad, I’m not a dog,” which reinforced my belief that you can’t talk to people and dogs the same way, even though I sometimes I’d like to.

It’s funny, but I have to remind myself to say good and kind things to my wife and children. It comes much easier with the dogs. Go figure.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. Red Hansen likes to tell how he can call in owls by imitating their hoots. He was doing this one night for quite a while, standing in his yard hooting every which way, and getting owls to answer and even to come into his yard.

When he went into the house, Hertha cut to the quick. “You can talk to the owls but you can’t talk to me,” she said, no doubt with the smile of a carpenter who hit the nail squarely on the head.

I feel that way sometimes with the dogs. But I’m going to keep talking to them anyway.