A dog’s novel idea

I had watched Babe, the first movie over the weekend. Blame it on the weather – it was rainy – and my need for time to chill.

But I enjoyed Babe, the ever-polite pig who was able to pass for a sheepherding dog – uh, well, by being polite.

After the movie I got my copy of Peter Mayle’s A Dog’s Life, which remains one of my favorite books on dogs. (Mayle, of course, has written other books, bestsellers that differ from canine subjects, but he really does quite a service to dogs in this book.)

The dog was born to a litter of 13 pups. He was born on a farm and like all farm dogs his human intended for him to be a hunting dog. But on his first trip out he failed miserably. His human decided to get rid of him by throwing him out in the forest.

With no home and lost in the forest for the first time, the dog wanders around. "I’m an optimist by nature, and so I started by considering the bright side. I was free to roam wherever my nose took me," thought the dog.

In time he finds his way to a highway and when he is hungry, he is fed a few lumps of sugar by these two friendly people in a café. Dog thinks because this couple is nice to him they want to take him home. He follows them to their car and as he tries to jump in the car door is slammed on his nose.

Dog continues to wander until he is taken in by a kind lady who lives with her husband – this is the Mayle household where the couple lives with two other dogs ". . . but to my relief they were both bitches – a shaggy old biddy with a resemblance to a hunting dog and a black Labrador with a limp."

It is in this home that the dog is given a name – Boy. (For a moment, I thought he was Pinoy!)

Peter Mayle writes: "Boy was found abandoned on the outskirts of a village in Provence. Having landed on his feet, he now divides his time between the kitchen and the forest."

Rereading the book, I got to thinking about the first time I brought a dog home in my adult life. I named her Crinkle, a Beagle. It had been years since we were able to have a pet in our house. Because of my dad’s illness, his doctors advised him against living with pets.

A year after he died, I decided it was time that my mom and I had a pet. We have had several pets since then, from hamsters to birds, to ferrets and, yes, to dogs.

Today, my mom and I live with four canine companions (three Mini Schnauzers and a Scottish Terrier).

I have always treated my dogs like humans. We sleep together and share stories.

As I scanned through Mayle’s book, I was sure that my four canine companions have already read the book in my absence because they seemed to know Boy’s "seven gestures of appeasement" by heart.

Here they are according to Boy:

1) Roll over on the back, after the fashion of the Cocker Spaniel, and wave legs helplessly. This serves to indicate remorse and to foil the first instinct of the angry human, which is to administer painful blows to the hindquarters. You cannot smack them at the floor level with any degree of force.

2) The tone of voice will tell you when the heat of the moment has subsided and it’s safe to get up and approach the judge and jury. This should be done with the modified shimmy – head down in shame, with the rest of the body wriggling in a frenzy of apology. Soft, contrite sounds are appropriate here if you have the knack of making them. Avoid barking or any baring of teeth.

3) Sit. Raise the right paw and place on the nearest available knee. For some reason, most people consider this endearing, and the chances of a clip around the ear are remote.

4) Remove the paw and rest the full weight of the head on the chosen knee. In most cases, this will provoke an involuntary pat, and then you know you’re home and dry. If it doesn’t work, proceed with the rest of the program.

5) Establish the whereabouts of a hand. After making sure that it isn’t holding a glass of red wine, butt it with a firm upward motion of the head. I mention the red wine only because of an unfortunate accident that I was once blamed for, quite unfairly, which rather spoiled the magic of the moment.

6) By now, all should be forgiven, but it’s important to be seen not to celebrate too quickly. I always take the time for a few tender minutes of affectionate leaning – against a leg or an arm; whichever is most convenient. The appendage doesn’t matter; it’s the endearing gesture that is vital.

And that, nine times out of 10, should do the trick. Only in desperate situations, when every blandishment has met with grim rebuff and hideous threats persist, I resort to the ultimate solution and release my secret weapon.

7) A certain delicacy of touch is necessary. Constant squeaking irritates the human ear, as I’ve noticed. So I sit looking as forlorn as possible and squeak at irregular intervals. And what do you know? It always works.

A Dog’s Life goes on to relate the various encounters Boy has with humans and other animals, too. These experiences are both hilarious and endearing.

But it is the last chapter of the book that I found most interesting. Here, Boy shares some of his advice for young dogs.

Beware of Christmas. It is traditionally the time when puppies are brought into a happy home as gifts.

Do not even attempt to understand the lure of TV. A box filled with small and noisy people, a disagreeable scent of heated plastic, the room plunged into darkness, conversation banned, and the faint sound of snoring in the background – is this enjoyable?

Never bark at burglars. They have no respect for animals’ rights and can be violent.

It is acceptable for people to immerse themselves in water every day; this is not acceptable (for dogs). Neither is shaking oneself dry in the living room.

Recognize the need for selective obedience. Under normal circumstances you can do what you like. But there are moments of crisis when it pays to respond to a call from authority.

Do not bring friends of the opposite sex home.

Never bite vets.

Finally, remember that we live in an imperfect world. People make mistakes. My advice is to make the best of it, and to make allowances. To err is human. To forgive, canine.