As they like to say in the world of therapy, Eli has issues. He came to us just days before the covid lockdown, and as a result, we missed the critical socialization window in dog development, during which he would have learned that other animals and people are a normal part of life. Perhaps because of this, and perhaps from natural inclinations, he does not have a lot of confidence. He has never known anything but patience and love, but he does not trust easily.
He is also, as my readers know, afraid of thunder, which he has translated into fear of dump truck clangings, loud thumps, motorcycles, and the reverberations of passing jets. In addition—and this is not neurosis—he is terrified of the deer flies who haunt the dark places this time of year and will swarm the dogs’ ears with terrible painful bites. I have a spray for that, and we apply it generously, but it’s hard to find, and we have been running low and waiting far too long for a shipment.
We all hate those flies with a passion. Both my dogs know the command “RUN!”which is used both playfully and in moments of fly jeopardy, and they also know to come quickly to me when I say “Mama fix” because it means I have seen a fly hiding in one of their ears waiting for the chance to bite. Even without the command to run, the sound of those flies buzzing sends Eli racing to the door to get inside. Frankly, I feel the same way. Have I mentioned how much we hate those flies? I’m pretty sure they’re a precursor to Hell.
Auggie just tries to eat them.
As a result of his many worries, Eli has several methods of comforting himself, including a short list of favorite safe places around the house. His regular spots usually include sweeping views of the property: the low windows in the living room (where I have placed a soft bed for him), the big (human) bed under the windows in my office, or our own bed, facing the french doors that look out over the woods.
But when a storm comes, we always know where to find Eli: in the basement utility room, back behind the well pump and the water softener, on a big soft dog bed we have set out for him. It’s a place he chose, and it’s a pretty smart choice, because there are no windows, lots of cinderblock, and it’s directly beneath the massive steel beam that is the primary support for the whole house. What we hadn’t realized is that there is another important feature: the clothes dryer.
My husband was watching tv the other night, and Eli—despite the weather being calm—was in his little hidey hole nearby. Suddenly, Eli came out of the room and scratched at the open door. My husband watched as Eli came to him, and went back again to scratch at the door. Eli had complete freedom to come and go, the door did not need to be opened. So why was he scratching? My husband is both observant and intuitive. The dryer had just ended its cycle. Did Eli want him to turn it back on? He got up and turned on the dryer, and Eli went back to his bed behind the machinery. Forty minutes later, the dryer turned itself off, and Eli was back. My husband got up and turned the dryer back on, and Eli went back to his bed, satisfied.
We’re not quite sure, but we have to assume that the warmth and low rumble of the dryer blocks out external noise, and may be comforting to him, like a heartbeat.
Eli may be big and slightly crazy, but he’s not stupid.
***
Since it is unlikely you are available to dog sit, there are two ways you can help support my work: You can become a paid subscriber (see below), and you can also purchase my books—even pre-order the new novel—at your favorite bookseller. Some of my favorite shops are Honest Dog Books, Boswell Book Company, Mystery to Me Books, Books and Company, Barbara’s Bookstores, Barnes & Noble, Target, and, of course, here. My illustrated children’s book, My Dog Pete is available only here. Thank you!
Sweetest baby with the sweetest soul.
What a smart boy. He likes the hum & heat of the dryer. He may be quirky, but he’s very lovable.