I’m of the mind that there are two types of people in this world (ok, ok
there are many types of people in
this world, but bear with me…), the people who live music and the people who
appreciate music. People who live music
have at least one song for every occasion, sing in the car and are often caught
dancing on the sidewalk, unaware that their feet are moving along with the song
playing in their ever present headphones.
I think it’s safe to say that everybody can appreciate music, but not
everybody lives it.
As you can probably tell from that segue, I’m one of the people who
lives music. I have been singing in the car for as long as I can remember, my
oldest memories are of driving with my dad, rocking out to Fleetwood Mac or The
Lovin Spoonful. My playlist is eclectic,
it contains everything from The Beatles to Usher. When I was single and living in a small
bachelor suite with wall to wall curtains, “no pants dance parties” while I
cleaned the house were a weekly occurrence.
I went on one date with a guy, who when he arrived to pick me up, looked
at me weird and said “is this the soundtrack from Rent?” Needless to say,
there was no second date. Whether that
was because I weirded him out with my quirky music taste or something else I
can’t say (or maybe it was because he knew without prompting that the song I
was listening to was from the Rent soundtrack?...)
So, for somebody like me, having a deaf dog was like cruel irony. Not that I ever thought that Target would
understand music, but it was hard for me to think that he couldn’t hear it at
all. To make matters worse, Target was
ridiculously serious about everything. I
am a fairly short woman who has made a habit of climbing on the countertops to
reach things high up in the cupboards.
This was a practice I had to stop when we got Target. Even as a small puppy, he had no issues
telling me off for climbing on the counters.
I managed to get him comfortable with standing on a stool, but he still
watches me carefully and grumbles.
If the cats are playing, or have a disagreement, Target will insert himself in-between them, gently moving them in opposite directions.
This seriousness also translates to every time I do anything even
remotely goofy or playful. As you can
imagine, for the canine of the house, mom’s dance parties were some
horrific nightmare. Even the slightest
shimmy would send him roiling. For a
deaf dog who had no context about what I was doing, the pitching and twirling
just seemed like utmost silliness and Captain Serious of the Fun Police said
no! If his barking didn’t deter me from
dancing and I tried to power through, he would try and use his body to corner
me in a small area of the kitchen or living room. I told my boyfriend that perhaps Target was
missing his calling and he should be a Seizure Alert Dog.
Target settled down a little bit during some of my dancing after we got
Comet. Comet was always up for a dance party!
He, even appreciated being part of the dancing and would be happiest if
I scooped him up in one arm and carried him with me while I spun around. After Comet joined my parties, Target would
only side eye us as we were silly and sulk on his bed nearby. His facial expression is the closest thing I’ve
ever seen to a dog rolling his eyes.
I only truly got my dance parties back when I realized that maybe Target
wouldn’t oppose them so much if I included him in the dancing like I included
Comet. I started to carry treats in my
pocket. When I would spin, I’d encourage
Target to spin with me and throw him the treat.
Eventually, as I was moving like Jagger, Target would move with me. He would twirl, jump and wag along with Comet
and I and he didn’t need any treats. It
seemed to me that he finally got to be ok with being part of something that he
didn’t entirely understand.
So, yes, I became that crazy lady who taught her deaf dog how to “dance”,
but at least mama got her groove back, right?
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