Yesterday, as my writing oddly channeled Socrates, I mentioned that one of the things “I Don’t Know” is what my dogs are thinking. As I was pushing Tinker, our 100-year old schnauzer, in her carriage this morning, I wondered what was on her furry mind? There she comfortably sat, with a breeze in her face, high above the line of sight of most other dogs. Did she feel superior or did she feel confined? Was she having fantasies of being “Mario Dogdretti,” or thinking back to those puppy days when she would get the “zoomies” and run uncontrollably in circles? Does she consider herself privileged or handicapped in old age?

As she was perched in her fancy stroller, her sister Tally was on a leash, walking beside my wife. It almost looked like she was prancing, while twisting her head and body to get a glimpse behind at Tinker. Was she thinking, “look what I can do that you can’t?” Or, was she silently boasting that she was with “mom,” while Tinker was stuck with “dad”?  Did she even have a desire to be pushed along, or feel left-out as “Dogdretti” and I speed quickly by?

As I continued with my run, I left both the stroller and Tally with my wife for a couple laps around the park. Did Tinker like the comfort of being in a pack of three rather than in the company of just me? Tally seemed much more relaxed not having to contort her body to keep track of Tinker’s whereabouts. Did Tinker like the slower pace of a walk as opposed to the relatively frantic velocity of being pushed along by a runner? Or, was Tinker solely focused on when we would stop so she could poop. After all, she is “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” We let her out twice along the way, and diligently do our doggy-dooty. (See Post #501). Does she experience those same worried moments of humans when we can’t find a rest stop on a long drive?

Do they like the dog-sitters that we hire when we go out of town? What does it mean when we start to pack our bags? Do they get to go, too? How much do they worry that we’ll abandon them like their former owners? How do they know before I do that my wife’s car is pulling into the neighborhood? Do Tinker and Tally really like each other, or do they just peacefully co-exist until it’s time to fight for a bone? What do they really think of Frankie the cat, and why doesn’t she ever go outside?

Does Tinker resent that Tally gets different dog food every night? Does she understand that we do this because of her allergies to wheat and eggs? When she makes a deposit on the kitchen floor, even after output outdoors, is she making a statement or is it just an oops without the “p”? Does she miss being able to jump-up on the couch and our bed without help? Does she think that every dog gets “ham time,” special treats, and dinner left-overs? I’m certain they are wondering why the cat get fed first, and why do they have to share the sliced ham (now turkey) with her? Could they all possibly understand how much we spoil them? If only we could have a family meeting and engage in conversation?

Does “Dogerella” now live in a fantasy world of carriages and glass-slipper water bowls? Does her sister Tally have wicked, vengeful thoughts about all this special pampering? What do the other neighborhood dogs think? Does coddled Tinker’s poop stink? These are all questions that only a dog whisperer can perhaps answer. We do have a friend who hires one on occasion to understand the needs of their pups. Maybe we should do the same? In the meantime, it’s fun to simply speculate on what our dogs are thinking between poops.