Harriet's Whisperer
May 7, 2016
The View from Mary's FarmThe Whisperer
Edie Clark
My dog Harriet is now the size of a hearty lamb but black, her face and legs the color of ginger snaps. She has matured into a reasonably well mannered dog but she still has this way of badgering visitors. I don’t know what her message is. Sometimes I think our solitary life together has spawned a kind of resistance in her to any intrusions from other humans. She is gentle in her delivery but her message seems to be: go away, we’re busy here. Other times I think she is simply overwhelmed with the excitement of welcoming a new person into the house. Whatever she is trying to say, she jumps up, wiggles, whines and basically makes a big scene. I have tried several methods to discourage this but when a new guest arrives, she just melts down and does it all over again. Beyond that, if the guest is going to eat with us, she insists on joining us for the meal, whining, begging, putting paws on guests’ thighs. In short, obnoxious. But, as other terrier owners know, training a terrier is like making water flow uphill.
Last summer, for various reasons, a man I knew to be a well-known animal behaviorist came here for a brief stay. When he called to make arrangements, I cunningly thought, oh, maybe he could give Harriet a few lessons. From what I’d read, I knew that, aside from being a small animal vet, Vint worked at the Providence Zoo with large animals like elephants and tigers. If he can work with rhinos, surely he could influence a little border terrier. I couldn’t wait for him to meet Harriet. I had told him about her but had stopped short of asking for his help.
Harriet and I were standing in the kitchen when he knocked on the door. I beckoned him inside. He slid the glass door open and stepped in. Rather than rushing to greet him as she does to virtually all visitors, Harriet sat beside me, stock still. It was as if she had been shot by a stun gun. I said, “Harriet, come meet Vint!” and walked over to greet him. I wondered if maybe he had a trace of elephant dung on his shoes. Harriet simply seemed in awe. Vint knelt and rubbed the reluctant Harriet’s ears and neck. She responded with friendly wiggles. I showed him his room and after, we sat and talked. Harriet lingered warily beside me and finally, to my total surprise, she lay down and stretched out on the floor between us. Vint did not seem to notice. He was on book tour for his newly published book, The Soul of All Living Creatures, a powerful exploration of the mystical connection between man and animal, and he had a lot of appointments to meet while he was in town. So he was off and running. Harriet was quiet after he left, settling beside me on the couch while I read.
The next morning, I made breakfast for Vint and once again, Harriet lay quietly on the floor between us. I was astonished but mentioned nothing. Let him think she’s an angel, I thought to myself. Pretty soon it was time to say goodbye. Once again, Harriet stood next to me, watching him leave.
Was it my imagination that she behaved differently in the weeks after he left? Maybe not. Visits from old friends seemed to evoke a similar response: “Harriet is a changed dog!” many said as she sat contentedly while we all chatted in the living room or ate at the table. Was Vint a dog whisperer? I had not noticed him whispering to her, in fact, he had spent little time with her at all. But what is a whisperer? I suppose whatever the magic is, the whisper is just between the two of them and that it probably happens very quietly.
The Whisperer
Edie Clark
My dog Harriet is now the size of a hearty lamb but black, her face and legs the color of ginger snaps. She has matured into a reasonably well mannered dog but she still has this way of badgering visitors. I don’t know what her message is. Sometimes I think our solitary life together has spawned a kind of resistance in her to any intrusions from other humans. She is gentle in her delivery but her message seems to be: go away, we’re busy here. Other times I think she is simply overwhelmed with the excitement of welcoming a new person into the house. Whatever she is trying to say, she jumps up, wiggles, whines and basically makes a big scene. I have tried several methods to discourage this but when a new guest arrives, she just melts down and does it all over again. Beyond that, if the guest is going to eat with us, she insists on joining us for the meal, whining, begging, putting paws on guests’ thighs. In short, obnoxious. But, as other terrier owners know, training a terrier is like making water flow uphill.
Last summer, for various reasons, a man I knew to be a well-known animal behaviorist came here for a brief stay. When he called to make arrangements, I cunningly thought, oh, maybe he could give Harriet a few lessons. From what I’d read, I knew that, aside from being a small animal vet, Vint worked at the Providence Zoo with large animals like elephants and tigers. If he can work with rhinos, surely he could influence a little border terrier. I couldn’t wait for him to meet Harriet. I had told him about her but had stopped short of asking for his help.
Harriet and I were standing in the kitchen when he knocked on the door. I beckoned him inside. He slid the glass door open and stepped in. Rather than rushing to greet him as she does to virtually all visitors, Harriet sat beside me, stock still. It was as if she had been shot by a stun gun. I said, “Harriet, come meet Vint!” and walked over to greet him. I wondered if maybe he had a trace of elephant dung on his shoes. Harriet simply seemed in awe. Vint knelt and rubbed the reluctant Harriet’s ears and neck. She responded with friendly wiggles. I showed him his room and after, we sat and talked. Harriet lingered warily beside me and finally, to my total surprise, she lay down and stretched out on the floor between us. Vint did not seem to notice. He was on book tour for his newly published book, The Soul of All Living Creatures, a powerful exploration of the mystical connection between man and animal, and he had a lot of appointments to meet while he was in town. So he was off and running. Harriet was quiet after he left, settling beside me on the couch while I read.
The next morning, I made breakfast for Vint and once again, Harriet lay quietly on the floor between us. I was astonished but mentioned nothing. Let him think she’s an angel, I thought to myself. Pretty soon it was time to say goodbye. Once again, Harriet stood next to me, watching him leave.
Was it my imagination that she behaved differently in the weeks after he left? Maybe not. Visits from old friends seemed to evoke a similar response: “Harriet is a changed dog!” many said as she sat contentedly while we all chatted in the living room or ate at the table. Was Vint a dog whisperer? I had not noticed him whispering to her, in fact, he had spent little time with her at all. But what is a whisperer? I suppose whatever the magic is, the whisper is just between the two of them and that it probably happens very quietly.