Dog Lingo + Bau Trains His Dog Mom (a.k.a. Carol Balawyder)

Bau can’t speak english, so he blogs in it.

Every wish you had a pet who could talk? I’ll admit, sometimes I say I do, but I don’t really mean it. If K-D doggie could, I’d feel even worse when I deny her anything. Wordlessly, (she’s not a novelist like me) she makes herself plenty heard. Her messages fall into three categories: eating, playing, and walking. When she licks her lips and stares at my food, it’s her polite way of asking, “You need help finishing that?” A toy dropped at my feet conveys, “Time to play.” A tail wag when I put on my coat to go out translates to, “Take me with you,” followed by sad eyes that arrow straight into my heart when I have to leave her home.

Carol Balayder’s dog, Bau, goes the distance. Carol’s his scribe. A writer from Montreal, Quebec, she went from teaching a variety of college courses to publishing novels and non-fiction…

At Carol’s blog, Bau keeps his posts in between hers. When they’re not blogging and she’s not writing books, they like to volunteer to help kids and grownups at schools, hospitals, and libraries. Here’s a sample of his view of the world…

Training My Dog Mom by Bau (with typing and photography courtesy of  his dog mom, Carol Balawyder)

I was born along with three other siblings — two brothers and one sister.  It was all very cozy. 

When I was three months old a lady came over to adopt me and brought me to her home where, at night, I slept in a basket next to her bed. I was lonesome for my family and likely suffered from some kind of anxiety attack; when I cried, she reached over and petted me. It really doesn’t take much to comfort someone. Just a warm touch that’s all. 

Then the unthinkable happened. She returned me to my original family. Apparently, she wasn’t aware that caring for a puppy requires a commitment to responsibility. Something she didn’t seem to have much of.  She found me too much trouble. Trouble! Didn’t she ever consider how much trouble it was for me to adapt to a new environment and the sudden shock of being separated from my family after being with them day in and day out for three months (that’s almost two years in dog time)? Frankly, I found it quite selfish of her and I could teach her a thing or two about being considerate and selfless. Anyway, I was very happy to see my family again and the rejection I felt faded.

A week later, the lady reappeared. She held me in her arms and told me that she missed me and that she couldn’t stop thinking of me. Usually, I am quite excited about greeting people I like but this felt different. It felt more like lost love found. I couldn’t control my jumping and my tail wagged fast and hard. I am very demonstrative like that. Something humans should take a lesson from me in greeting people they care about. 

A few days after returning to my new home I learned, to my horror, that I was her first dog. I soon realized that she didn’t have a clue how to take care of a dog and that I would have the onerous task of training her. At least she was retired so, I assumed, she would always be with me. This turned out to be of great disappointment as she left me alone when she went out grocery shopping or to her yoga class which hurt my feelings as I am a master of downward dog. Moreover, I was afraid she wouldn’t return. Although I have many qualities such as patience, curiosity, ability to love unconditionally, being expressive about my love, and a keen sense of smell I would be completely lost without someone to take care of my basic needs. Who would buy my food? Fill my bowl with fresh water?

As the months rolled by, she took me for long walks which I thoroughly enjoyed. What I didn’t enjoy so much was her impatience when I stopped to smell something that was of interest to my sensitive nose. These were times I wished I could talk and tell her to just chill, look around and see what she’s missing. Walking a dog can be an occasion to enjoy the beauty of nature. It was exhausting at times having to train her. There was so much she needed to learn.

I graduated from the basket and now sleep on her bed. Sometimes she slips her cold feet under me. I endure them because I want to please her. It’s often the little things someone does for you that matters most. 

One last thing before I head out for my nap before bedtime. I have inspired her to write about me on her blog where I am cast as a major character. Because of me new avenues have opened up for her in her writing career and often, when she is busy at her computer, I sit on a cushion next to her and think how lucky she is to have me as her muse.

Do your pets read your mind?