Previously I mentioned that BeeBee appears to have learned to bark in a “normal” way from observing my other two dogs. In addition to using this bark when she joins in greeting visitors, she also uses it when she greets and wants to play with other dogs. Unfortunately, the latter yields less successful results than the former because the average human has no idea what she’s saying to them but it doesn’t matter, especially with cute puppies. On the other hand, it does matter to the average dog and, judging from other dogs’ responses to her, whatever she’s saying does not translate, “Let’s play.”
Au contraire. Their response suggests that she’s communicating something incongruous like, “I want to turn you into a paper bag and beat you with my ears as fast as I can,” or perhaps, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane.”
But when BeeBee wants to vocalize in her native tongue, as it were, the result is quite different. When she doesn’t want me to do something to her (like look in her ears) or, God forbid, she gets underfoot and gets stepped on, she goes into major drama queen mode and gives a loud sharp cry. The first time I heard it, I though I’d killed her. Now I’m used to it, but she’s also learned my body language for “Quiet” which is strange when you think about it. I mean, I doubt that what quiet means to me is the same as what it means to a deaf dog.
As close as I can come to describing Bee’s personal happy/contented talk it is that she sounds like a rooster yodeling in the bass, baritone, and tenor range inside a small echo chamber, possibly a fur-covered one. There’s a joie de vivre quality about it that never fails to make me laugh.