Wherever We Land

Rufus. Oh, Rufus. Where do I even begin? This magnificent beast, a glorious mix of pomeranian and… well, something else (we’re still guessing), is the undisputed ruler of our household. My daughter wife adore him, and frankly, I’m starting to see their point. He’s a lovebug, a goofy goofball, and a walking, barking vacuum cleaner, inhaling every crumb that dares to escape onto the floor.

But oh, the communication. Or rather, the lack thereof.

See, Rufus possesses a vocabulary of approximately three words: “Bark,” “Squirrel,” and “Treat.” He uses them with impressive frequency and varying degrees of enthusiasm. I, on the other hand, have a seemingly endless supply of words that, to Rufus, might as well be a foreign language.

“Rufus, come here!” I’ll say, my voice firm. Rufus will cock his head, give me a bewildered look, and then proceed to sniff a particularly intriguing patch of grass with renewed vigor.

“No, Rufus! Don’t eat that!” I’ll exclaim, pointing dramatically at the discarded chicken bone glistening menacingly on the sidewalk. Rufus will tilt his head, give me a soulful puppy-dog look, and then promptly gobble down the bone in two triumphant gulps.

“Leave it!” I’ll command, holding out a tempting treat. Rufus will stare at the treat with wide, pleading eyes, then lick my hand with enthusiastic abandon, completely ignoring the forbidden object.

It’s enough to make a person want to scream.

If I could make Rufus understand just one thing, just one simple concept, it would be this: “The words coming out of my mouth actually mean something.”

Imagine the possibilities! “Rufus, come here!” I’d say, and he’d actually come. No more chasing him around the yard like a caffeinated maniac. “No, Rufus!” I’d say, and he’d instantly freeze, his mischievous tail tucked between his legs. “Leave it!” I’d say, and he’d look at me with newfound respect, perhaps even offer a polite, “Yes, ma’am.”

Alas, these are but dreams. In the meantime, I’ll continue to speak to Rufus in a variety of tones, from gentle coaxing to stern warnings, all of which seem to have roughly the same impact: a tilted head, a wagging tail, and a complete disregard for my instructions.

But hey, at least he’s cute. And that, my friends, is usually enough.