Chawla 1

Mehak Chawla

Professor Vaughn

ENGL2089: Intermediate Composition Honors

10 February 2017

The Connection Between Souls

Outside of a dog, a book is mans best friend. Inside of a dog, its too dark to read.

Groucho Marx (Bradshaw)

His vibrant, golden fur was soft beneath my small hands as my short fingers caressed the

fluffy strands. Already at fifty pounds, Buddy was a massive three-month-old Golden Retriever.

Lying outside in the mild April sun with my new companion, we watched the clouds drifting,

gliding, and sweeping away. We went everywhere together. I ate, he ate. I slept, he snored. I

talked, he listened. At least that was what I hoped he was doing as he looked at me rambling

about how I did not like the new teacher, how the new bus driver was mean, how the new kids

were not nice, and other struggles of elementary school. I talked, ranted, and vented, and he

watched, observed, and listened. I became curious. What was he thinking about? About the

stories I told him? About food? Using my seven-year old imagination, I dreamt about what he

would say, probably something wise, soothing, and funny. I conversed with my golden, faithful

companion, filling in the blanks where his words would go. We talked about cartoons, movies,

books, and what treats he liked. Together, we learned how to understand the world and each

other.

Literacy goes beyond the standard norms of reading and writing. Literacy is in every

aspect of life. You can have literacy in cooking, cleaning, drawing, coloring, and relationships:
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the bond between you and family, between you and friends, between you and pets.

Understanding the emotional ties, immersing yourself in their experiences, knowing their every

thought and wish encompasses the literacy of love, of compassion, of connection. These aspects

are intertwined with my literacy of dogs.

To paraphrase my favorite movie, The Lion King, Buddy and I were one. We bonded, we

understood each other. In second-grade, during show-and-tell, I described how Buddy was fluffy,

goofy, slobbery, and the most awesomest dog in the world. With a beaming smile, I held up a

small three-by-five picture of him while trying to express the mental, emotional, and physical

connection I had with Buddy. However, my teacher, Mrs. Austin, was not happy. Restricting me

from recess time, she reprimanded me about sharing things that were not true, stating in her nasal

voice, Dogs cannot think. They are only dogs.

I was confused. What did she mean? Of course, dogs can think! Even after telling her

about Buddy and what we did, she told me that it was just my imagination and to not bring it up

again. But I was stubborn. I knew that Buddy had thoughts that he wanted to share. He had a

brain. I had a brain. So, if I can think, he can think. After the bus, squealing like a big, yellow

pig, dropped me off, I marched home. After determining my plan with Buddy and whining to my

mom, I went to the library and was greeted by the sweet, stale smell of books. I read and wrote

about dogs. I read Clifford the Big Red Dog, A Dogs Life by Ann M. Martin, A Dogs

Purpose, and stuttered over Chicken Soup for the Dog Lovers Soul. I copied what was

interesting and drew terrible pictures of the dogs mentioned in each book. I pushed until I had all

the information I needed. Then I wrote a one-page story: a story about a dog and his owner and

the connection they had so that the red-haired, high heels wearing teacher could read it and

understand that dogs feel emotions, that dogs had thoughts, and that dogs were just better
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versions of humans. My seven-year old self was utilizing a foreign concept, telepathy. As

Stephen King stated, All the arts depend upon telepathy to some degree, but writing offers the

purest distillation (103). I remember showcasing my story to Mrs. Austin after class the next

day and watching as she stumbled over what to say.

Motivated by this experience, I continued my path of understanding dogs throughout

grade school. From picture books to novels, I read all day and, like Sherman Alexie, I read

books into the night, until I could barely keep my eyes open. I read books at recess, then during

lunch, and in the few minutes left after I had finished my classroom assignments. I read books in

the car (131). The library became my second home. However, reading different books with

similar plots and rereading books was becoming repetitive.

I needed something new. I tried watching National Geographic, but it was focused more on

animals and not dogs. I tried watching documentaries, but they were boring. I searched through

the never-ending list of media for new dog stories. I even tried mind-reading on Buddy but to no

avail. Then, after figuring out how to use a technological contraption, the computer, for things

other than games and drawing, I found a website dedicated to dogs.

This website was beautiful. Pages upon pages, lists upon lists of all the different dog

breeds greeted my amazed eyes. I compiled all the information for each breed into a chart with

average heights, weights, coat colors, online pictures, and then added hand-drawn pictures by

yours truly. I worked on this chart every day. This chart was my hobby. It was like my basketball

practices and my piano lessons. I fixed and formatted the chart, adding more breeds, checking

the information with another website, and separating each breed based on their type. Walking

down a street, I could recognize the breed of dog with only one glance. It turned into a game. If I

guessed all the dogs right, I would go to the library and get a book. This game was ongoing. It
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became a sixth sense to know when a dog was nearby. To make things even more interesting, I

mused over what dog breed strangers would be. My chart was finished and I was at a loss for

what to do next.

I constantly remembered the second-grade incident and realized that I never dove into the

connection between dog and owner, between Buddy and me. I was contemplating what to do

when I stumbled upon a certain article. My heart exploded. I found gold. The angels were

singing from above. A psychology article. A psychology article about how dogs communicate

and their emotional behavior. Like people, dogs typically communicate using body language

since they have a limited amount of other ways to communicate. Dogs can read human body

language better than we can, and they are incredibly fast and flexible learners (Bradshaw).

Reading about the different emotions dogs have and the categories into which they instinctively

divided these emotions ignited a passion for psychology in me. The tables turned for Buddy and

me. Before he watched, observed, and listened to me. Now, I watched and observed him, using

my new knowledge about body language. Buddy talked during these moments while I listened.

While looking for other articles, it was evident that there was a distinct divide in the

research community about whether dogs can or cannot think. Growing up with dogs, I always

remember the veterinarian saying that dogs are like young children, they understand to an extent

what is going on. On one of the many publications that graced the bulletin board in the

veterinarians office, a writer discussed how dogs have problem solving abilities, such as

escaping a fence. I was a little too familiar with this concept due to Buddys multiple escapades

as a puppy during the harsh winter seasons with massive piles of snow spread around, running

after him with slippers instead of boots and the cold wind nipping my cheeks. While displaying

my anger to Buddy for running, I internally praised him for finding a way to get out.
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I developed an intuition to understand dogs and discovered what methods to use that

would facilitate my journey into a dogs mind. My search for proving Mrs. Austin wrong led to a

world where people were inspired and intrigued by mans best friend a world where there was

a community that were curious about the same questions I had and set out to find answers. A

world where I belonged.

His dull, golden fur was coarse beneath my adult hands as I continuously wove my

fingers in and out segments of fur. It was a chilly November day. The grey, ominous clouds

stood still. We were both inside. The brutal smell of antiseptic assaulted our noses. We did

everything together. He lay on the cold, hard tiles; I sat next to him. He wheezed and I couldnt

breathe. The clock ticked. He felt a pinch in his paw; I felt a pinch in my heart. His big, warm

eyes closed; my red, wet eyes stayed open. He released his last breath and I held mine. Buddy

had left me, but what he taught me would stay with me forever.

Buddy inspired me to look beyond the fiction books I read and more into scientific

articles. With my passion for dogs, I became more proficient in understanding their body

language. I learned to look for details. I learned to quench my curiosity despite opposition. I

learned to listen. Even after Buddy died, I have never forgotten the lessons he taught me.

Nobody has literacy in one aspect of life and nobody has literacy in all aspects of life. Literacy is

what pops up first in your mind when asked What is a skill that defines you as a person? For

me, this skill is understanding dogs. During my childhood and teenage years, I had my golden

companion by my side. Without saying anything, he taught me how to be wise, soothing, and

funny. I have read somewhere that a relationship focused on verbally communicating is weak,

but a relationship that can grow and strive with few words is strong. I can value a false silence,

where words are not exchanged but emotions and compassion are. The connection between souls
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is the foundation of a strong relationship. Love, understanding, compassion is not freely given in

the world today. People want to be heard rather than listen and want to talk rather than sit in

silence. Even in school, some teachers grade students based on the amount of times they

participate in class. However, imagine this. Imagine a world where people felt connected to one

another in some way, felt the need to listen and understand each other; a world where listening

was graded rather than talking. This world would be filled with dogs.

Works Cited

Alexie, Sherman. The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me. Writing about

Writing: A College Reader. 2nd ed. Ed. Elizabeth Wardle and Doug Downs. Boston:

Bedford/St. Martins, 2014. 129-131. Print.

Bradshaw, John. What Is This Dog Thinking? The Guardian. Guardian News and Media,

16 Feb. 2014. Web. 31 Jan. 2017.

King, Stephen. What Writing Is. On Writing. New York: Scribner, 2000. 103-107. Print.