Truffle Troubles

In 59 years of marriage, my husband and I have had eleven dogs. Despite his calm, non-despotic demeanor, all the dogs have been extremely submissive towards my husband. This was especially true of our German Shepherds, who were acutely aware of rank and authority. The most dominant of them, a big male named Jesse, was fanatically eager to show submission. When my husband came home at night, Jesse would rush to him, flop down on his back, expose his belly, and emit a squirt of urine. I eventually realized that this was triggered by eye contact with the master, and from then on, as soon as my husband opened the door, the kids and I would yell, “Don’t look at Jesse!”

Now we have dog #12, Truffle, a six-pound Pomeranian with one brown and one blue eye who could easily be mistaken for a dust bunny. If you haven’t already read about Truffle, here is his résumé: eight years serving as a stud, confined to a cage in a puppy mill.

During the eighteen months he’s been with us, Truffle has gone from extreme shyness towards all humans, to extreme shyness towards all men, to, finally, reserved but not unfriendly behavior towards men and women. From the beginning, however, he made an exception for me. He quickly figured out on which side his bread was buttered, and attached himself to me with epoxy-like firmness. For a creature with an olive-sized brain, he learns some things really fast.

But here’s the thing: he’s never bonded with my husband, or even grown to tolerate him. If Truffle and I are sitting on the sofa and my spouse enters the room, Truffle growls. The first time we heard this, we were appalled. Ours was a growl-free house! Growling was a sign of insurrection and sloppy training, and was sure to lead to biting and heaven knows what else. The Shepherds would have rather died than disgrace themselves by growling. And if they had, we would have corrected them in no uncertain terms.

Of course I say “no!” when Truffle growls. I even do the César Millán “pshttt!” But nothing works. One way to solve this would be for my husband to take over Truffle’s care: the walking, the feeding, the administering of Chinese herbs, the putting on and taking off of the belly bands (yes, belly bands), the endless brushing of that unbelievably thick coat. But I was the one who decided I couldn’t live another day without a dog, went on Petfinder, saw that face and those weird eyes, and filled out the application. So it doesn’t seem fair to expect my husband to shoulder the labor of Truffle care, especially since the growling doesn’t endanger anybody (Truffle has no teeth) and he only growls at one person.

Curiously enough, when I’m out of the house, and he’s alone with my husband and the cat, Truffle doesn’t growl. So what does the growling mean? Is he so inept at reading humans that he thinks that my husband is going to hurt me and it’s his job to defend me? Or, worse, is Truffle claiming ownership of me,? Has he been infected with some manosphere aberration that’s been floating in the ether?

I have no idea. I’m grateful that he doesn’t growl at other people, because I find it deeply embarrassing. I have always taken pride in my (mostly) well-trained, well-behaved dogs. And now here I am, helpless to correct this micro-canid, and at risk of turning into one of those little old ladies tyrannized by their ill-behaved little old dogs.

But at least I don’t speak to him in baby talk.