Winning Charlie

The Futility of Teaching an Old Human New Tricks

Sam and I have been away for several days. Upon our return, Charlie greeted me with tepid interest. He sniffed my face and patiently waited while I rubbed his belly and scratched his ears. On the other hand, he greeted Sam with frantic joy, playfully grabbing his arm with his teeth and making little high-pitched whining sounds while standing on his hind legs to lick Sam’s face. I was still happy to see Charlie, even while thinking what am I, chopped liver? No wait, he’d be all over me, if I were chopped liver! I mean, come on! I bathe him, feed him, and, more often than not, walk the little ingrate.

The more I thought about this, the more annoyed I became. I figured I’d do some research. I turned to a very reliable internet source, which claimed dogs react positively or negatively to the sound of people’s voices. Sam’s voice is lower and softer than mine, with way less of a desperate attention-seeking edge. Fine, I thought. I know how to modulate.

Second, dogs react positively or negatively to smell. As far as I know, Sam and I both smell like unscented Dove soap, but I’m a vegetarian and Sam is a carnivore, so maybe the smell of consumed animal flesh oozes from Sam’s pores. It’s only a theory, but I can rub bacon grease on my forearms as well as the next person.

Finally, dogs are fans of consistent behavior, like some guy coming home around the same time every night and throwing a well-gummed plush soccer ball with them in the living room for exactly three minutes. Apparently, dogs don’t appreciate people impulsively scooping them up and clutching them forcefully while burying their faces in their sweet little scruff and saying I love you, I love you, I love you so much, my little munchkin! My strategy here? Throw in the towel. Sam wins. When it comes to Charlie, I can work around his most basic instincts, but there is no fighting my own.