Dogs bark, whine, growl, whimper and howl.
Outside of a Pixar film, dogs can’t talk to humans directly*, but it sure can be fun pretending to translate their animal behaviors.
*Yes, I’ve seen the internet videos where dogs push buttons on the floor that play recorded words to communicate to their owners. In the spirit of this being a newspaper column, I’m keeping this bit in the analog realm.
A couple months ago, we brought home Marley, a 1-year-old cockapoo, and our first family pet in about a decade. We’ve spent this time trying to understand all the dog’s idiosyncrasies. On one hand, he seems to be mildly intelligent. He responds to the key words — potty, food, outside, ride, sit, down, stay, etc. All in all, check out the big brains on Marley!
On the flipside, he occasionally chases his own tail, barks at his own self-made noises and forgets who I am if I put a baseball cap on my head — or, alternatively, he barks at my Minnesota Twins hat to express his disappointment at the team’s poor start to the season.
Ultimately, I’m not interested in whether Marley is a “smart” dog or not. We’ll take care of him all the same, albeit more carefully if he decides to do foolish things like chase cars or eat neighborhood cat poop.
I only wanted to know his brain power for one specific reason: I need to know what kind of voice to use when I’m pretending to talk like him.
Admit it, dog owners. It’s fun to “speak” for your dog. Like when the dog barks repeatedly at the front door, it’s enjoyable to take on his persona and holler, “I gotta poop! I gotta poop! Big dump time!”
OK, maybe it’s just me.
Well, anyway, I needed the proper voice for Marley, otherwise it doesn’t sound quite right when you say things. Sure, most dogs probably fit naturally into the Dug the Dog voice from “Up” (“Squirrel!”).
My wife, however, correctly noted that Marley has a rather dim-yet-gentlemanly demeanor. The little white patch of fur on his chest makes it look like he’s wearing a little dog tuxedo. He’s classy… but also completely out of his depths in most situations.
With this in mind, it only made sense for us to give Marley a bad British accent. Think of Mr. Bean, only spoken by two adults and four children who have no idea how to believably speak in a British accent.
“Cheerio, gov’na! Do you have food? I would very much like some food! Food for Marles, please and thank you!”
Oh yeah, the dog came to us with the name Marley, but I gave him his full name: Marles Barkley Wilson. Because he’s a stately gentleman who also eats as much as a 6-foot-6 retired basketball player might.
So, yes, my entire family tries to speak to Marley in his native British language, except for when he’s done something naughty. Then he turns into Marleen Quinzell, AKA Marley Quinn, and he talks like the mischievous Batman villain.
Maybe we have too much time on our hands.
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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 7-13. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.
The Exhausted Dad
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