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 - Thursday, October 5, 2023 - Trail Mixer with Willem Lange - More Information
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
A trip along Vermont's Long Trail.
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Thanks to our podcast partner: The Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication at Franklin Pierce University
Join host Willem Lange on a tour of a Cambridge oasis -- the Mount Auburn Cemetery.
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?
Melissa Elam has hiked all of NH's 4,000-foot mountains with her cat, Floki.
A North Conway family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
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.
New Hampshire resident Susan Dromey Heeter is competitive.
David Krueger is a Language Specialist / Interpreter, you may have seen him.
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.
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.
Host Willem Lange is off to Cape Cod w/ Kiki for a hike with bestselling author Tom Ryan.
Outdoor Afro volunteer leader Mardi Fuller will take viewers on a winter hike.
Jason Berard is the Stewardship Director at the Upper Valley Land Trust.
Some of New Hampshire's "hidden treasures".
In 1971, Laura Waterman and her husband Guy decided to leave behind a corporate life.
In 1971, Laura Waterman and her husband Guy decided to leave behind a corporate life.
The skill it takes to climb NH's breath-taking cliff faces.
Outdoor educator Scott Ellis is passionate about connecting people with the outdoors.
Outdoor educator Scott Ellis is passionate about connecting people with the outdoors.
Host Willem Lange visits one of NH's spectacular public properties.
Host Willem Lange visits one of NH's spectacular public properties.
Rachael decided not to let their dream die.
Rachael decided not to let their dream die.
When Marianne Borowski retired, she had a dream to create an adventure trail.
When Marianne Borowski retired, she had a dream to create an adventure trail.
Host Willem Lange explores the history, culture and natural beauty of Scotland.
Host Willem Lange explores the history, culture and natural beauty of Scotland.
Host Willem Lange spends the day at Pinkham Notch where he learns about staying safe.
She shows how to have a deep connection with our dogs and nature.
Forest Therapy Guide Nadine Mazzola and their dogs.
Mount Washington is a New England icon that dares people to challenge it.
Mount Washington is a New England icon that dares people to challenge it.
Vermont teacher Scott Ellis believes that real learning happens outdoors.
Vermont teacher Scott Ellis believes that real learning happens outdoors.