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A man stands in front of an exterior wall painted blue, his arm thrown around the shoulders of his daughter. The man looks at the camera with a small smile. His daughter looks off camera to the left, grinning. The family dog sits in front of them, his back to the camera and face turned to the left. A large tree-log awaiting carving can be seen behind the man.
Al Zifchock with daughter Tracey, and dog Baron, outside workshop in Chepachet, Rhode Island. Henry Horenstein, photographer. September 15, 1979. Rhode Island Folklife Project Collection (AFC 1991/022), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

Dog Days of August: Dogs Being Dogs

Posted by: Meg Nicholas

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This is the third entry of a four-part series, Dog Days of August, highlighting dog-related items from the American Folklife Center’s archival collections. The first entry can be found here and the second entry here.

As we’ve seen in the first two entries in this series, dogs can be hard-working, serious and focused on the task at hand. Some dog breeds are especially naturally inclined to a particular job — for example, I once had a Border Collie who, despite never receiving an ounce of proper sheepdog training, loved to herd my siblings when they were playing in the front yard. I do think, though, that the default disposition of most dogs is the one exhibited by a dog named Booger in a photograph from the Montana Folklife Survey collection (AFC 1981/005), enjoying a nap in the shade at Agnes Vanderburg’s traditional skills camp in Montana.

Two women sit at a picnic table under a stand of pine trees, talking. To the right of frame, a young woman stands beside a black dog who is taking a nap in the dirt.
Jan Charlo, Booger (dog), Agnes Vanderburg, and Kay Young at Agnes Vanderburg camp near Valley Creek, Montana. Carl Fleischhauer, photographer. July 19, 1979. Montana Folklife Survey Collection (AFC 1981/005), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

A second possible default setting is the “at play” one, also exhibited by Booger, this time in the fields of the same camp as above.

Black and white photograph. A boy holds a long stick. A black dog stands twenty feet away from him, looking back at the boy. There is a ball on the open ground between them. Tall stands of pine trees are visible behind them.
Boy and Booger the dog, at Agnes Vanderburg’s Camp, Flathead Indian Reservation, near Arlee, Montana. Carl Fleischhauer, photographer. July 19, 1979. Montana Folklife Survey Collection (AFC 1981/005), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

As I sifted through AFC’s collections for other examples of dogs just being dogs, I stumbled upon an audio recording from the American English Dialect Recordings collection (AFC 1986/022). In 1977, Donna Christian and Walt Wolfram were interviewing two eleven year old boys from Laguna Pueblo, in New Mexico. The topic of dogs came up, and the boys had this to say about some of the dogs they knew:

Boy #1: We saw a white husky. Then, well, we bought a hamburger. And me and this husky dog, we were sharing the hamburger. And we were sharing this cotton candy. It was in this car.

The second boy jumped in next with a story about a similar experience:

Boy #2: Me and my dog Ginger, we like to share ice cream. And when he looks at me, I’ll give him some. Then we end up sharing and I’ll go buy a Zit. Me and him have to share that. Me and her have to share that too. […] She would just look at me and I’ll put my cup down and she’ll lick it. Then she gets done and after I’ll wash it off and I’ll lick, get my share, then I’ll give her some.

Shortly after that, the interview dissolves into a cacophony of confusing overlapping stories and retellings of current movies, in the way that any recording of 11-year-old boys who know they are being recorded tends to go. As I listened to the boys talking about sharing their food, though, I thought of this picture of Albert Trujillo and his dog, Spot, in Mescalero, New Mexico, found in the New Mexico Folklife Project collection (AFC 1991/032).

Black and white photograph of a man sitting on a wooden bench, holding an ice cream bar out to a dog.
Albert Trujillo feeds an ice cream bar to his dog, Spot. Carl Fleischhauer, photographer. August 29, 1985. New Mexico Folklife Project Collection (AFC 1991/032), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

I am pretty sure that Albert bought that ice cream just for Spot to enjoy, and that they aren’t taking turns, but the fieldnotes for this particular section of the field survey are pretty sparse, so there is no way of knowing for certain. At the very least, it seems making sure one’s canine friend had a refreshing treat on hot days was a common thing – at least in the southwest.

Another item I came across in the American English Dialect Recordings collection pertains to the intelligence and lovability of mixed breed dogs, as exemplified by Melvin Sampson’s dog:

“Well the dog I had, I had more than one breed of dog, each dog I had was a pedigreed dog except for one I had, was a mixed breed, but I found out of all the dogs I had, the mixed breed was the best one. Easier to train for one thing. And then if we let them out and went out of town he took care of himself. Oh, we called him Keno. And so, ah, to me he was a beautiful dog. He was a mixed breed with German Shepherd and Boxer and he was trained to baby sit little kids across the street up by the light, he would open the door or ring the doorbell. And so he was very well trained.”

A man stands against a blue exterior wall, his arms embracing his two young daughters on either side of him. They all look to the left of frame, where the family dog has joined them and is jumping up to greet them.
Al Zifchock with daughters Sandra and Tracey, and dog Baron, in Chepachet, Rhode Island. Henry Horenstein, photographer. September 15, 1979. Rhode Island Folklife Project (AFC 1991/022), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

When asked how he went about training his dog, Melvin explained:

“Well I started out when he was a puppy, you know, housebreaking him and then after that when I’d start around the front door you know and watch very closely we’d put his foot up on, his paw up, you know try and get him up there to reach the doorbell. As he got larger he was able to reach it you know. After  he was able to reach it, I stopped pushing it with the paw. Every time he pushed the doorbell we opened the door from the other side so it got so he was in the habit, you know, when he wanted to get in, he’d ring the doorbell. We’d go and answer it. And then if the door was unlocked you know, he could turn the doorknob with his mouth to come in.”

Melvin’s secret to training a dog was simple: “You got to really spend time with them. All your time. And you have to show the dog that you really love him, you know.”

Black and white photograph. A man in a set of coveralls and wearing a straw hat stands with his back to the camera. A fence made of stacks logs stands to his right. The man's dog is in the process of jumping over the fence, having just cleared it with his back legs.
Dean Gambill’s dog does a trick on his farm in Sparta, North Carolina. Patrick B. Mullen, photographer. 1978. Blue Ridge Parkway Folklife Project (AFC 1982/009), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

In all the photographs of people and their dogs that I happened to come across while working on this piece, it was clear that each and every one of these folks loved their dog, and their dogs loved them back.

Man in a green t-shirt hands a piece of cheese to his dogs, who are begging at his feet.
Scott Graebke gives his beagles R2 (left) and Wiley (right) a piece of Tillamook Cheddar on Nedonna Beach, Oregon. Tillamook: Cheesemakers in Coastal Oregon: Archie Green Fellows Project, 2021-2022 (AFC 2021/011), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

You can almost feel the excitement and wagging tails Scott Graebke’s beagles as they wait not-so-patiently for their treats.

Amongst the little tidbits in the American Folklife Center’s “dog” subject file, tucked behind articles on dog breeds such as Mountain Feists and Mountain Curs, is a print-out of an email with the subject line “How Many Dogs Does It Take to Change a Lightbulb?” As I close out this entry on dogs at play (and rest), it feels like the perfect time to include some of the answers to that joke’s prompt, accompanied by some of the sillier photographs I found featuring man’s best friend:

How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb?
Border Collie: Just one. And I’ll replace any wiring that’s not up to code.
Dachshund: I can’t reach the stupid lamp!
Lab: Oh, me, me!!! Pleeeease let me change the light bulb! Can I? Can I? Huh? Huh? Can I?

Black and white photograph. A man in a pair of coveralls and a straw hat stands in front of a cornfield, his arms out to embrace a large dog jumping up to put its paws on his chest.
Dean Gambrill and dog in cornfield in Sparta, North Carolina. Patrick B. Mullen, photographer. 1978. Blue Ridge Parkway Folklife Project (AFC 1982/009), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

Pointer: I see it, there it is, right there.

Black and white photograph. A man sits in a chair in his yard, looking straight at the camera, a small smile on his face. At his side, a black dog stands, looking off to the left, it's mouth open.
Tommy Jarrell and his dog, Bolliver, at home in Toast, North Carolina. Margaret Counts Owen, photographer. 1978. Blue Ridge Parkway Folklife Project (AFC 1982/009), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

Shih Tzu: Puh-leeze, dah-ling. Let the servants.

Blurry black and white photograph of a dog in a hat and glasses, looking out a window to its left.
Dog sitting in armchair wearing eyeglasses. Uknown photographer. Circa 1930-1950. Lomax collection of photographs depicting folk musicians, primarily in the southern United States and the Bahamas, Prints & Photograph Division, Library of Congress.

Greyhound: It isn’t moving. Who cares?
Toy Poodle: I’ll just blow in the Border Collie’s ear and he’ll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.
Malamute: Let the Border Collie do it. You can feed me while he’s busy.

Black and white photograph. A white dog rests in front of the doorway to a pantry. Behind him, a man prepares food on a stove.
Val Filice and his dog in front of tank house, Gilroy, California (where home canned fruits and vegetables are kept). Ken Light, photographer. September 19, 1989. Italians in the West Project (AFC 1989/022), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, and you’re inside worrying about a stupid burned-out light bulb?

A white dog splashes in the middle of a shallow pond while a crowd of children look on from the raised edge of.
A dog jumps into a small pond chasing ducks at Native American Day, held at the Village Acadien in Van Buren. David A. Whitman, photographer. July 15, 1991. Maine Acadian Cultural Survey (AFC 1991/029), American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

I appreciate lamps with working lightbulbs as much as the next person, but I also feel that Golden Retriever sentiment deep in my soul sometimes. Perhaps today is as good a day as any to embrace your inner dog and enjoy the little things in life: a special frosty treat, a splash in a pond, a well-earned nap, and time spent with good friends.

 

Black and white picture of a young boy standing in a yard. He is partially bent over, his hands placed on either side of his dog, to hold in place for the photograph. A hill with a line of trees is visible in the far distance.
Young boy with dog. Unknown photographer. Circa 1934-1950. Lomax Collection of photographs depicting folk musicians, primarily in the southern United States and the Bahamas, Prints and Photographs Divisions, Library of Congress.

Comments (2)

  1. Alli H-K says:

    This was delightful! Our beloved furry friends are an important part of who we are as Americans and humans, kudos to the AFC for recognizing that.

  2. Cheryl L says:

    I have enjoyed this series immensely, but this post is my favorite so far! I particularly appreciate the balance of information and humor.

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