Like many Guyanese, I grew up with dogs as part of my home space, beginning at the village of Hague, West Demerara, where I was born and spent my early years and later at Vreed-en-Hoop, where we also had a dog. When I migrated to Toronto in the 1950s, dogs were again in play when I acquired my own house in the suburbs, and when Tradewinds moved to Grand Cayman in the 1980s after our music had become popular there, I had several dogs on the three-acre spread where our family lived in the eastern part of the island.
The tradition continues with my return to Guyana to live on the East Coast, with currently three dogs roaming the property and it’s amazing what these so-called dumb animals can pick up, modifying their behaviour simply based on observing human beings. It’s like a miracle. Our dog Jet, the Belgian Shepherd, for instance. I hang my keys on a nail on the side of our shoe rack by the front door. The second I go over there and pick up the keys, Jet bolts for the front door. If it’s closed, she waits there for me to open it and she runs out. If it’s open, she runs out and heads straight for the van, and when I get there she’s standing beside the vehicle, tail wagging, almost vibrating, to get inside; she wants to go for a drive. All three dogs love drives. I did nothing to teach Jet this.
She just picked it up watching me, without me being aware of it, and connecting the series of actions together. If I’m eating, the dogs come around where I’m sitting, looking for scraps. Sometimes I give them tiny nibbles (Annette’s son, Alex, doesn’t want me to be feeding them), and the second I decide that’s enough, I look at them, say two words, “No more” and show them my empty hands, both sides, and immediately they walk away….done with that. Two words and empty hands they know that means no more treats. They’re gone. No looking back.
The dogs are in and out of the house during the day. There is a kennel in the back, where we can put them when we have visitors, and, as a rule, we leave one of them overnight on the first floor and take two of them (the Belgian Shepherd and the Pit Bull) with us in the bedroom. Incidentally, we can report that we have seen no evidence of the much reported horror stories of their behaviour. Our Pit Bull, Peppa—actually Alex’s dog— is a delight; full of play and shows none of the violence we were told to expect. Jet, the Belgian Shepherd, the bossy one of the lot, has this trait of letting you know when she needs to go outside for toilet functions. She’ll come to where you are, even in bed sleeping, and jab you with her snout giving you the “let’s go” signal. The message is clear and if you don’t react right away she’ll continue to jab you until you do.
With their acute sense of smell and hearing, Peppa will often bolt for the gate before any of us are aware that her boss, Alex, has just driven up in front, and if we don’t react, she goes into this frenzied barking as if saying, “You all deaf? Somebody at the gate” all the while staring at you in disbelief. The senior dog of the three, Choo, is a German Shepherd mix whose name derives from her habit as a young pup of chewing stuff in the living area downstairs – edges of furniture being her favourite. Choo, who is in the living area downstairs at night, will wake you with incessant barking with an urge to pee keeping it up until you crawl out of bed and let her out.
Dog owners generally will tell you also of the constant delight owners get from these animals when they return home after a few hours’ absence. The outpouring of affection, while sometimes a bit excessive, is truly a gift you’re always happy to receive. Everybody who owns a dog can give you several heart-warming stories of their pet’s behaviour – they are a daily joy.
