Adriana's Telephone Pole: Dogs and Memories

There’s one telephone pole at Garner Street Park that holds a special place in Adriana’s heart. From where we park, the pole stands about fifty yards away, across the parking lot, a grassy field, two sets of tennis courts, and a flight of stairs. It’s not easy to reach, and we don’t pass it a lot. But when we do, Ade’s stride slows. She intently stares at its wooden trunk, gaze traveling north until she reaches the top. The whole time her pink nose works overtime, straining for one whiff of squirrel.

Ade loves this pole because it reminds her of an incident that happened over a year ago, an incident that proves – at least to me – dogs have memories. She knows the drill: after we finish our walk, she sits in line until I unlatch her leash, and then she takes her spot in the Honda’s backseat. But on that hot summer afternoon she tossed the whole rulebook in the creek. The moment I unhooked her tether, she bolted after a squirrel. She chased him across the asphalt, the grass, the courts, the stairs.

There were moments during her thirty-second pursuit when I thought she had him, when she got so close that I was cheering for the squirrel. The critter made it to the telephone pole within seconds of his life. He scrambled halfway up before he stopped. Ade leaped at the base and barked, a bark like no other, one that said she accomplished exactly what her instincts proscribed. She treed her prey.

When I finally arrived, the squirrel had scurried to the pole’s summit. He was watching Ade as intently as she watched him. Both were panting. The chase had excited Ade so much that she didn’t even care when I reprimanded her. Instead, she acted as though it was worth every angry look I threw her way. She pranced back to her pack, tailing whipping like a flag on a motorboat. She was damn proud and couldn’t hide it.

I’ve seen Ade tree squirrels in our yard before, but for some reason doing it on that telephone pole was so special that the memory remains, even a year later. The emotional mix of rebelliousness and instinct must have been such a rare combination for my little mutt that experiencing it took on meaning, just like it would for us.

When I think about dogs, about their intelligence and sentient nature, I think about Ade and her telephone pole. Maybe significant emotional experiences create memories in all kinds of species. Granted, dogs probably aren’t as reflective about memories as we are but make no mistake. They remember.