Dogs

I have three dogs. We go for walks, usually in Riverside Park on the west side of the island of Manhattan. They have distinct personalities.

Shakespeare is a black and white papillon. He always keeps me in view from behind, usually staying within a couple of meters, but occasionally allowing me to get up to 40 meters away before he runs to catch up. He's not interested in socializing with other dogs, and usually keeps his distance from them. If one approaches, it is usually greeted with two or three seconds of nose to nose contact followed by a surprise bite, which never seems to harm the intruder but does dissuade them from returning. He is not popular and doesn't seem to care.

Theia is related to Shakespeare but is brown and white and a bit larger. She is the alpha of our pack, more assertive than the others and seemingly brighter. She is highly motivated by treats and loves to be petted and praised. She jumps on me when I come through the door and when I'm eating puts her head in my lap, looking up at me with irresistible eyes, which inevitably earns her something off my plate. She views herself as responsible for keeping the pack together. If one of the others (or even another human in our family) leaves the group, Theia looks back and forth between me and the one who has left, as if to bring the separation to my attention. Once the distance between us and the threatened abandoner reaches her limit, she runs back and forth between us, as if to force us to reconcile our differences and reunify.

My third dog is Eris. She is a rescued puppy with mixed ancestry, including basset hound, german shepherd, and supposedly shih tzu. She's much bigger, faster, and stronger than the papillons, but still defers to them as her elders higher in the pack hierarchy. She is the only one who plays well with strangers. She loves the rough and tumble of the dog run, and easily matches the play styles of timid puppies and muscle-bound ruffians. She keeps track of my whereabouts but does not hesitate to leave the pack if a squirrel, a stick, a plastic bottle, a picnic basket, a ball, or another dog catches her eye. Eventually, she remembers to look for me and runs to rejoin us, often with Theia's facilitation.

Although their personalities are quite varied, all three dogs are intensely attached to me, to other family members, and to each other. They are overjoyed after a long separation ends. Yesterday I took Theia to my daughter's college campus after a weeklong separation. Theia was clearly thrilled at the reunion, but leaving my daughter behind at the end of our visit was clearly breaking her canine heart. She tugged at the leash, barked, and cried, as if pleading with us not to allow our pack to fracture again.

Watching Theia, I felt as if my own feelings were being manifest, as if she were acting out what was hidden in my heart.