Dog’s ‘stirring’ holiday lesson: It’s not stuff that matters most in gift giving

I want to think that mastery of free will lets humans sit alone at the top of the list of intelligent animals. Instinct nudges us here and there, but I usually feel like our big brains let us maintain conscious control.

And then the Christmas season comes around to remind me that I have more in common than I like to admit with the dogs Pavlov conditioned to salivate at the sound of a bell at feeding time.

It’s the songs playing everywhere now that we’re past Thanksgiving that do it.

No matter how disconnected those songs are from my life — free as it is of lords a-leaping, figgy pudding and Grandma getting run over by a reindeer — just about any Christmas carol will hijack my mind to a vague state of joyful peace.

Until someone plays “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” and I get to envying that kids’ parents. At least they know what one of the people on their list wants. My most consistent holiday tradition is seeing how long I can drag out decisions about what to buy anyone on mine.

My mom told me she didn’t open gifts until Three Kings Day in January when she was a little girl in Mexico, and don’t think I’m above leaning on my heritage if I put off my Christmas shopping too long.

This year I started thinking about it early, though.

It was an evening a couple of weeks ago when my wife was out of town and one son was working. I figured that meant I only needed to take care of dinner for me and my younger son, so we went out for a great Thai meal.

When we got home, our dog reminded me there was one family member I hadn’t included in my calculation.

I’d set out Jack’s usual bowl full of kibble before we left. But as soon as the boy and I walked in the door, Jack’s keen nose told him that we certainly hadn’t had to make a meal of anything so boring.

Demanding fair treatment, he rattled his full bowl in his “feed me” signal. This time, though, he clearly meant, “Feed me something better than a pile of dry dog food.”

Rattling a full bowl is something I first noticed Jack doing when my wife or I cooked a good dinner and didn’t give him any scraps off our plates.

I used to think it meant his kibble had been sitting out too long and had lost too much of its aroma for an animal with such a sophisticated nose. He did, after all, always chow down happily as soon as I stirred up his food with a spoon to make it nice and fragrant.

But then he started to sometimes rattle the bowl as soon as I poured in his dry food. I noticed it was always when I happened to give him his dinner while I was cooking something complicated for the rest of the family, something that involved chopping up ingredients and carrying them over to the stove, where Jack could see me carefully tending to dinner in the pan with tongs, a whisk or — and here’s where the lightbulb finally went off for me — a spoon.

I figured out that Jack didn’t care what happened when I stirred his food. He only cared that I stirred his food. He wanted to see me give his meal something close to the care I gave everyone else’s.

So with no leftovers to offer Jack from the Thai dinner that he could smell on my son and me that evening, I pulled a spoon from the drawer, leaned over Jack’s bowl, and stirred up the kibble. Having seen me trouble myself a little over his dinner, he ate up his dry food with all the gusto he shows for a taste of a thoughtfully prepared meal.

To Jack, I realized, it’s the thought that counts.

Thinking of that platitude while my dog wagged his tail over his simple dinner reminded me that trite as they are, those words are true.

To keep this season of celebration more relaxing than usual, I’m going to try to lean more toward handling my Christmas shopping list with presents that emphasize thought over flash. Treating friends to a night of bowling or giving a relative the luxury of kicking back while I do their yard work one day will be more memorable than most things I might otherwise order from Amazon.

Jack’s Christmas present is already figured out, of course. He’ll get a home-cooked meal. Something where he can watch me stir real food as it cooks in a real pan before he scarfs it down. It’s the least he deserves for reminding me that it’s the thought that counts.

Richard Espinoza is a former editor of the Johnson County Neighborhood News. You can reach him at respinozakc@yahoo.com. And follow him on Twitter at @respinozakc.