By Gingie Pooh
Okay, I want all my cards clearly on the table. I love Ginger. However, while in public, she demonstrates impulse control issues...meaning that she is extremely hyperactive. Outside of that issue, which drives me out of my mind, I truly love Gingie Pooh. She is well-fed with premium dog food. However, she gets loads of extras like pig ears, carrots, and a plentiful variety of bones to gnaw upon during the day.
That being said, Ginger has a collection of toys. Family and friends present to my grande dame, gifts of various stuffed toys, which she loves. I, personally, tend to stay within the animal realm as in bones and pig ears. One reason, other than my personal predisposition to actual real animal parts, I don’t buy toys that aren’t blue and/or yellow.
You might wonder about that seemingly irrational mindset. In reality, it is my means of loving Ginger. Dogs can’t see the variety of colors that we see. Therefore, I choose toys which she can actually see the colors.
Therefore, while shopping the other day, I saw a yellow stuffed lamb with an internal squeaker. It was an ideal gift for Ginger due to her ability to see yellow. Beyond that, when I was Ginger’s age during WWII, my mother gave me a stuffed lamb, which I named Lammy Coo. Therefore, the gift to Ginger had to do with her seeing the yellow animal and my stuffed animal when I was a toddler.
I could hardly wait until I brought home the yellow lamb. When I got home, I told Ginger about my special gift. Truth be known, she was excited. I threw it around my office area, and she retrieved it. All was happy; we were both content with the gift, the giver, and the receiver. It reminded me of part of the poem, The Vision of Sir Launfal by James Russell Lowell, that I memorized while in high school,
Then I had to go to the kitchen for some more coffee and Ginger stayed on her divan next to my desk and computer with her yellow lamb. I wasn’t gone 10-minutes. However, this is what I saw upon my return to my office.
Ginger was devouring the head of her Lammy Coo. I asked her what she was doing?
“I’m just chewing on my toy.”
My retort was that she was pulling out the stuffing from her head.
Ginger responded, “You give me bones, and I chew them.”
I accepted Ginger’s point.
Ginger is into chewing; she chewed off the end of this bone. No matter what she puts in her mouth, it will be devoured. We talked about her chewing.
To console me, Ginger continued, “You know you didn’t come into this world with what John Locke called a tabula rasa, which is Latin for ‘blank slate.’ Tabula rasa was a Roman slate with wax on it. They would write on it and then they could erase it by rubbing the wax. Actually, tabula rasa means ‘erased slate.’ Go to the computer, and look up tabula rasa.”
This is what I found.
Ginger continued, “I digressed a bit. My point is that Locke was wrong. Within our DNA vast sums of data is stored and is carried down through the ages. Dogs were domesticated 20,000-30,000 years ago. Prior to that, we forged for food, which meant that we needed to chew to survive. That is way that I am such a chewer. Next time you get me a stuffed animal, remind me to refrain from chewing. Okay?”
I told Ginger that I would and maybe her not chewing stuffed animals will, in time, become a part of the canine DNA.
Visit the Thus Spoke Ginger page to read more about this topic.