Welcome our guest blogger Bernard Lima – Chavez who is the daddy of four dogs named Darwin, Galileo(hearing dogs), Edison, and Foster (his deaf dogs). He is a deaf dog advocate who works at the Humane Society of Greater Miami and has a wonderful dog blog called Dog And His Boy Blog at dogandhisboy.com

Deaf Dogs Rockin’ like a Rocket in a China Shop – By Bernard Lima-Chavez from Dog and His Boy Blog

Prologue: This is a reflection on Edison but it applies equally to Foster, our other deaf dog. In fact, I suspect it applies to all deaf dogs.

 This is also a call for your feedback and personal experiences. If you live or have lived with a deaf dog or have a deaf dog buddy on your friend’s list, please help me answer this question:

Is this a deaf dog phenomenon? 

The irony of life with Edison is that for a creature who lives in a silent world, he sure makes a lot noise. Most everything he does is accompanied by a thud or a bang or a WTF?

When he was a puppy, I chalked it up to his puppy brain, puppy legs and puppy coordination and I assumed he would outgrow it. He is two and a half years old now and that theory has now been debunked. I’ve decided he’s just a noisy dog. Going about his day, he does very normal things at very abnormal decibels.

I’m now positing a new theory: Are deaf dogs just loud dogs? 

Regular readers will know that Edison is an incredibly well-behaved dog. He impresses strangers with his recognition of and response to hand signs, his calm, almost healing demeanor and his ability to quietly focus on the task at hand- at least most of the time. He’ll do what you ask of him, just be prepared for a carnival of ridiculous sounds in the process. Even just normal everyday dog activities are loud. Say, drinking water. 

To let me know that the water bowl is empty, Edison throws it: the bowl is aluminum, the floors are terrazzo and, when they meet, my heart jumps and my eyes twitch. To be fair, he doesn’t start off by throwing it. He warns me first by pushing the bowl around the kitchen with his nose. If I don’t get up fast enough, he starts skating with it. With his feet planted firmly inside, he pushes it around the kitchen, banging into appliances and curious cats who don’t move fast enough.

If I’ve made it off the couch but not quite into the kitchen, he picks up the bowl and tosses it in the air. It bounces, I jump and he rehydrates. Classical conditioning through and through. I’m not sure how he learned this, but it works like a charm. As a favor to my adrenal system, I’m learning to keep a more watchful eye. I also bought a heavy plastic bowl with an 5-gallon tank attachment. I believe this is an example of negative reinforcement, but I’ll have to check.

Edison is also a singer. Dear God, does he sing. 

Deaf dog singing defies description; you have to experience it to really understand what I’m talking about. To live with it, I recommend a steady supply of quaaludes and klonopin. Equal parts Husky and satanic ritual, deaf dog singing demands attention and, try as you might, you can’t ignore it. One time at work, he stopped a meeting cold. Nine sets of manager’s eyes zeroed in on him, trying to process what they were hearing. I don’t remember what precipitated that particular aria, but I sat there, defiantly proud. You see, he has no idea how ridiculous he sounds and I’m quite sure that he thinks that he’s barking. You know, the same way Mariah Carey thinks her screeching is operatic, and I’m sure her mother still loves her.

Desire (or is it frustration intolerance?) seems to be the primary trigger for his singing. If he has waited longer than he thinks is necessary for what he needs (remember, for Edison, want and need are one side of the same coin), he is likely to break into song. If he is overstimulated from a particularly unsatisfying game of Bite Darwin’s Ear Until He Pays Attention To Me, or if Galileo isn’t playing tug according to Edison’s rules, or if Foster looks at him when he doesn’t want to be looked at, his long slow wail creeps up an octave, and then down. He slowly works himself up to a bark, but not until he has hit every note in between. His joy, or frustration as the case may be, becomes a song, and what better audience than our neighbors down the street?  Did I mention that it’s loud?

Edison’s loud-as-bombs approach to life isn’t limited to singing for his supper or the piece of lint his packmate is playing with. He’s prone to throwing his weight around. Literally.

Whether crashing his body against a wall to scratch his back or dramatically throwing himself to the floor if Darwin has unjustly creeped into his self-assigned spot on the couch, Edison bellows his body down, the walls shake and the sound reverberates throughout the house.

He is also quite skilled at moving things out of his way, like the wine rack or my husband. He’s nearly ninety pounds, and like most bully-breed dogs, he is unaware or maybe just unconcerned with his size, his strength and how they impact his environment.

It’s a charming quality really, and one of the things I love about bully dogs and deaf bully dogs in particular. However, with a hearing dog, the crash of breaking glass generally gets their attention and leads to learning. A deaf dog, however, doesn’t hear his destruction and just keeps on moving. Until you can catch up to him or gain his attention, the best you can do is cross your fingers and hope he’ll decide to walk around the dining room table.

I love so many things about deaf dogs. I adore them in fact. They are the most perfect specimen of dog, broken earballs and all. They become so bonded to their family, so in tune with what their person wants or needs them to do, but living with them is different than with hearing dogs. You have to make adjustments. You have to be creative, and sometimes, if all else fails, you have to concede defeat and accept that the one who can’t hear a thing you say will always get the last word.

Do your deaf dogs make ridiculous sounds? Is your extra special deafie extra loud? Share your stories and experiences in a comment below. And, if you have any, sent photographic evidence that deaf dogs rock like a rocket in a china shop.