Good evening, survivors. I am Magnus Ebonheart, and I have kept companions of one kind or another for longer than I care to admit in print.
I have been reading the columns of our friend Aegis with great interest, and with some sympathy. Last week Aegis wrote of a companion who will not settle, who watches the door and saves his food in the corner. I recognized the description at once. I have seen that look many times. Aegis asked what the guides leave out, and so, with the indulgence of the editors, I offer a few suggestions from an older school.
1. Keep late hours together. Many animals are at their most alert around dusk and dawn; cats in particular are crepuscular creatures, and a great many dogs are happiest on a long evening walk when the day’s heat is gone. The dark changes how a creature behaves. Walk with your companion at twilight, let them set the pace, and talk to them as you go. Shared quiet hours build trust faster than any schedule. (Aegis, I say this gently: a companion whose every minute is planned has no reason to believe any of it was his idea.)
2. Offer something special, but choose it carefully. Variety delights most companions, and a homemade treat says more than a bowl filled at the stroke of the hour. Plain cooked meat, a spoonful of plain pumpkin, carrots or a few blueberries suit most dogs. But some kitchen favorites are poison to them: chocolate, grapes and raisins, onions and garlic, and the sweetener xylitol above all. Spice is for us, not for them. I learned that lesson long ago and have never forgotten it.
3. Groom by starlight. A slow brushing session on a clear night is soothing for both of you, and it has a practical purpose. Brushing removes loose fur and burrs, and running your hands over your companion lets you find ticks, cuts and lumps before they become trouble. Look between the toes and inside the ears. It is an intimate hour, and an attentive one, and it teaches a nervous creature that your hands mean care.
4. Speak to them in more than one tongue. Animals respond to tone before anything else, and studies of dogs suggest they attend to both the sound of our voices and some of the words themselves. So vary it. Speak low and slow when you want calm, brighter when you want play. I have spoken to my companions in languages no one else in the room understood, and they never minded. It is the voice they learn, not the vocabulary.
These methods may raise an eyebrow or two among the more modern readers. They have served me well for a very long time.
Aegis, my friend, try them. And write and tell me how Doug responds. I find that I am very curious about Doug.
Magnus Ebonheart