The Wuff with the Smooth: Are you alright there?

“Are you alright, there?”

I probably ask Waffle this question at least once a day, maybe multiple times if situations require. He has one of those faces, I think, perpetually perplexed but eager and friendly at the same time.

When I work from home, Waffle has taken to draping himself over a cushion on the sofa, as close to me and my work station as it is possible to be. And because of this proximity, I become intimately aware of his little noises – yawns, stretches, sneezes and sometimes, yes, even farts.

“Are you alright, there?” I ask, after one or more of these vocalisations and he’ll cock his head in an enquiring manner as if to say, “Eh?”

And especially on those days that I work from home, I find that I am talking to Waffle about things more and more. Granted, it’s a one-way conversation (so far) but if I thought about it (which I am now doing), I realise it is becoming a regular occurrence.

If a van reverses into the drive I might ask the Waff, “Where’s yer man going?”

At lunch-time I might say, “Hungry Waffie? I know I am.”

Or routinely after one of his special vocalisations, “Dog, you are absolutely stinking.”

Sometimes I catch myself feeling a bit silly about talking to Waffle and then I remember that it’s nothing to be concerned about and there’s worse things happening in the world. I also recognise this chatting tendency as a form of anthropomorphism. To be honest, I’d be surprised if people said they didn’t talk to their pets (although perhaps not fish).

It is a human’s prerogative to ascribe feelings to inanimate objects or animals. As a kid do you remember feeling kinda sorry for the marker in the pencil case that never got used? Another prime example is becoming angry with your car if it won’t start on a cold morning and possibly even criticising it at the same time – “you heap of scabby scrap!”

This is normal and moreover, studies have shown that dogs in particular recognise words, even if they don’t really appreciate the meaning.

On Monday past, as I was strolling back to the office after lunch I found myself behind an older lady walking two dogs. She was easily on the far side of 70 years (one should never guess a lady’s exact age) and she was wearing that beloved garment of yesteryear, a duffle-coat, light brown and fringed with white at the cuffs. Of the dogs, one was a little terrier of some description, spiky and white while the other was a spaniel, shaggy and tan. At first I thought the woman was on the phone, such was the rapidity of her chat but I eventually realised that she was talking to the dogs. This was confirmed when at one point she squatted down and rubbed both under their chins saying, “We don’t care if he comes for dinner at the weekend, do we? No we don’t. He can stay up at his if he wants. Talk about ungrateful.”

This one-sided conversation continued as the woman stood again and resumed walking. Most of the discourse was snatched away from my ears by the wind but I did catch the phrases, “Frey Bentos… for his dinner,” and possibly, “if he doesn’t come, yous two can have it.”

I remembered then my habitual daily response to Waffle when he emits a vocalisation although I stopped short of saying, “Are you alright, there?”

Nor was the woman one bit perturbed at the possibility of me overhearing this chat. As we started off in differing directions, she looked up and said, “Hello,” when our eyes met. And then she went back to her chin-wag with the dogs.

Before we parted ways altogether, I caught the remark, “We’ll text him tonight and see what he says. But if he’s not coming, that’s us finished.”

Thinking back now, I wonder as to the identity of this ‘he’ that she was talking about. A relation? A wayward suitor? A vet visiting out of hours? Also, what kind of Frey Bentos pie would she have been serving up? Steak and kidney? Chicken curry? Minced beef and onion?

At the time though, my astonishment at the canine confab superseded such imaginings.

I remember reading somewhere that talking to your pet is a sign of intelligence. If that’s the case, this elderly lady must have an IQ of 160 – on a bad day