There is a great mystery about dogs. Why do they do the things they do? Theirs is a fascination with everything. Every noise, every smell…every little speck of anything attracts their attention as the most interesting thing in the universe. Then, on to the next thing. Puppies chase leaves floating across the yard. My dog actually chases her tail, frequently catching it at full speed across the yard and literally rolling over as she wrestles with herself. The tail-chasing is one of many quirky things about Edie; things that are known and explained-away in the hands-up shrug of “she’s a dog.” A rather meaningless expression summing up all that is seemingly without meaning about this animal while unequivocally giving meaning to the unexplainable.

See what I mean?

Not so long ago, I started our normal daily routine of letting her out to do her business and she bolted out the door as if her life depended on it. This, by itself, is not unusual…after all, she’s a dog. She then proceeded to chase a rabbit, barking loudly and bucking like a wild bronco all the way across the yard. Apparently the bucking adds emphasis to the message in her barking. Minutes later I found myself standing in the wet grass at 6am yelling at my dog to stop barking at the rabbit which apparently had not retreated far enough to convince Edie that it was no longer trespassing within her domain.

Actually, I wasn’t just telling her to stop barking. More specifically, I said, “Stop screwing around and go to the bathroom.” Now, Edie is trained and, as dogs go, reasonably intelligent. However, I’m pretty sure that the specifics of my instructions were lost upon her and though my tone may have conveyed most of what needed to be communicated, I realized mid-stream that there were two animals in the backyard barking and my dog’s barking was likely more intelligible to the rabbit than my barking was to my dog.

Now laughing at myself, I wondered about other conversations I had with my dog and realized that I pretty much always talk to her as if she knows what I’m saying. There is normally the command, “stop,” “go,” “come,” etc. which is followed by more specifics, “over there,” “over here,” “in the back,” often accompanied with pointing, waving, or gritted teeth, depending on her degree of incomprehension.

“She’s a dog” seems to capture the essence of the unexplainable for my dog but what about me? Perhaps “he’s a man” offers more clarity than I realize.

With a bit of reflection, I wonder about other places I may be “barking at rabbits” without realizing it. Driving along, coaching other drivers who clearly need my expert guidance. Reading a post on social media and providing verbal clarity to what is clearly not fully understood by its writer. Providing expert counsel to the Pacers or the officials who clearly could use my unique form of encouragement at key moments. What do you mean they can’t hear me through the TV?

Where else might my barking appear? Are there places where what I think I’m communicating is a bit less clear than what I might hope? Most certainly.

The world around us is often a carnival of headlines, news stories, and strange behavior. There is no end to the bizarre on nearly every front. Stopping long enough to notice, we see caricatures in the faces around us and sometimes hear the absurd in our own voices. Perhaps we’re not always as intelligible as we might think.

As my granddaughter lets Edie out this morning, I watch as the mystery of rope-tugging unfolds. Calling Edie over, I instruct her to sit and look at me so I can get a photo. She runs into the other room and I summon her back, reminding her to get her toy and sit directly here (I point to where I want her to be). Neither Reagan nor Edie see anything odd in my instructions and though the dog does not obey any single command perfectly, we eventually come to agreement if not understanding.

At least I wasn’t barking…too much.