A dog can initiate and ratify a tradition in one day. What happens this afternoon, good or bad, will be repeated or avoided for the rest of any dog's life. But wait. To be perfectly honest, I must add that this is true of this little dog, right here, at the present time; and that I've projected that trait onto the rest of her species without empirical evidence. But I suspect it's accurate.
I haven't come to this conclusion carelessly. It's the result of more than a year's careful observations, especially during the year just completed, during which we've been more sequestered from the outside world than usual. Deprived of the conversational stimulation of my late wife's presence, but instead accompanied for 24 hours of almost every day by a lively, attentive terrier, I've been trying to establish a bond of mutual understanding between us, even though she doesn't speak my language – and occasionally pretends not to understand it, either.
Along the way, each of us has come to rely on certain predictable traits of the other. I've read that many cohabiting couples, who once unknowingly depended on their jobs to separate them for most of their waking hours, have had real difficulties being cooped up together full-time. That's definitely not the case here. We seem to be getting on better every day, if that's possible.
But to return to the business of creating traditions. Almost every morning she goes outside a little past six to pee and clear the premises of vicious predators. She gets a treat for coming back in (which is a lot sooner at ten degrees Fahrenheit than fifty) and goes back into the bedroom for forty winks. When finally she smells breakfast, she appears silently (and underfoot) beside the stove. She gets only a snack in the morning, so I go to the wall cabinet and fetch her a begging strip. Remembering how much better French waiters can make everything taste by the dramatic way they serve it, I transfer it to her eager jaws with balletic panache. She disappears.
And then she's back after two minutes. She knows she'll get a little cube of Swiss when I get done chopping the cheese for my omelet. It's impossible to avoid those eyes looking expectantly upward. She gulps the bit of cheese and disappears again.
Or used to. One morning last week – I don't know why – I said, "You know, you've been such a sweet companion lately, here's a Newman's Own treat for you." I dug one out of the bag on the counter and gave it to her. She chewed, swallowed, and finally left. But the next morning, once she'd had her cheese ration – the usual cue for her to depart – she lingered, still looking up, and even moved toward the counter where the Newmans are kept. So suddenly we have an inviolable new tradition: Every day I get the eyes and the soulful expression.
We've wintered very quietly. A trip to the supermarket every week or so; a walk in the park in the afternoon, later every day now; hors d'ouevres and a toot at five; supper at six. Somewhere she's learned to tell time, and announces the events she enjoys at least fifteen minutes early. Trouble is that, like the rooster who thinks his crowing makes the sun come up, she thinks I'm moving, when I do, because of her prodding. So I try not to stir till the appointed moment. Now, with mud season clearly in the offing and my second Covid shot coming up in a couple of days, we may be freer to fiddle with those times, hobnob outdoors with friends, and even dine out a bit.
I suspect that lots of little things (and new traditions) that we've gotten accustomed to during our hermitage will linger. A shake of her tags announces the need to go out; a little foot on my thigh from the right side of my office chair means she wants to lie across my lap while I try to type; either end if her touching my elbow at the desk (I've laid a folded fleece at one end for a nap) says that she's contented here with me. If she disappears during the day, I know she's lying in the trough that she's hollowed out behind the cushions atop the back of the couch – the living room on a clear day is warm as a solarium – and is luxuriating in the sun on her fur.
My wife, before she died, regretted that she wouldn't be able to teach the new puppy any tricks. I've taught her nothing. She's learned everything by positive and negative reinforcement. So have I, from her. Our expectations of each other have made both of us better creatures.
UPCOMING EVENT - Sunday, October 6, 2024 - Trail Mixer 2024 Windows to the Wild Event
WINDOWS TO THE WILD WITH WILLEM LANGE is generously supported by the Alice J. Reen Charitable Trust and the Bailey Charitable Foundation
Willem Lange’s wardrobe is generously donated by The Kittery Trading Post
Fifty years ago, a group of citizens stopped the development of an oil refinery.
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Thanks to our podcast partner: The Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication at Franklin Pierce University
Adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers set out.
We rejoin adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers.
A team of researchers study the effects of human interactions with Canada Jays.
Joe Klementovich travels along Maine's rivers on a paddleboard.
Marshall Hudson writes stories about interesting and often forgotten places and people.
Scarlett, also known as "Little Foot" has hiked all 48 of New Hampshire's 4,000 footers.
Willem Lange and a group of New England travelers explore the beauty and culture of France.
The Gulf of Maine offshore wind farm could become New England's next source of renewable energy.
Elevate Youth empowers youth to explore the outdoors and promotes environmental stewardship.
Gregory Rec and his daughter Corrina love hiking together.
Mirna Valerio does it all. She runs, hikes and skis. She encourages others, no matter who they are.
Myah Rather is a Meteorology and Atmospheric Science student from Maryland.
As an NHPBS member, you'll be among the first to experience it.
Randy Pierce lost his sight in 2000, but not his determination to keep hiking.
Dogtown, part of the forgotten forests of Cape Ann, Mass.
Wildlife videographer Alfred Balch heads into the woods with Willem.
Find out what attracts our feathered friends to this special spot.
Host Willem Lange takes viewers on a ride along the Scenic RailRiders track in Concord, NH.
A North Conway, NH family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Willem and Wendy Lull explore and discuss ways to record and preserve life on the coast.
Willem goes looking for moose with long-time moose researcher Charles Willey in Colebrook.
A trip along Vermont's Long Trail.
Join host Willem Lange on a tour of a Cambridge oasis -- the Mount Auburn Cemetery.
A North Conway family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Melissa Elam has hiked all of NH's 4,000-foot mountains with her cat, Floki.
Willem and a group of people from throughout New England took a trip through Ireland.
What do you do with a section of 170-year-old abandoned railroad track?
Gabriel Andrus will ski from the northern border of NH to its southern border this winter.
There are gems in the hills. Host Willem Lange learns there's a lot to rock hunting.
Arlette Laan is the first woman to hike all eleven of the National Scenic Trails.
Kayaker Betsy Wish set out years ago to meet the people who catch our lobsters.
Host Willem Lange is at sea on the American Eagle schooner.
The Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve is considered an ecological gem.
WINDOWS TO THE WILD's good friend and Outdoor Enthusiast, Chaya Harris from Outdoor Afro.
Getting outdoors is important but its also important to be safe.
Competitive rower Erik Frid takes a break from competition to row 300 miles.
Susie Spikol is a naturalist at the Harris Center for Conservation Education.
Mt. Eustis Ski Hill opened in 1939 and was a community gathering place until it closed.
New Hampshire resident Susan Dromey Heeter is competitive.
David Krueger is a Language Specialist / Interpreter, you may have seen him.
Redline guide Ken Hodges hikes with Debby "Bear Repellent" Roberts.
Willem hikes with partners and participants of Summits in Solidarity.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
Conway photographer Joe Klementovich uses a paddleboard to explore 130 miles of the Saco.
Students attend school aboard a schooner.
Join us for an all new season of Windows to the Wild with Willem Lange! Wednesdays at 7:30
Host Willem Lange is with friends on the Tucker Mountain trail in Vermont.