Dog encounters fox, learns how to deal with uncertainty

As best as I can tell, my dog Khan has three basic needs:

1. Protect the fort
2. Understand the world
3. Snooze

Last night he found all three of those needs challenged when a fox appeared in the yard.

The fox scurried about haphazardly, but weirdly systematically, never straying far from the bedroom window where Khan was stationed. The fox’s process was simple: Sniff, pounce, chew. Sniff, pounce, chew. Every few seconds she would do this, frantically almost, in a race against daylight. Given the rate at which she was going and given her tiny stature – somewhere between a wiener dog and a house cat (but with a big fluffy tail and a tiny, adorable face) – I figured she must’ve been eating crickets and other modestly-sized insects.

Khan, though, was paralyzed with confusion. He had no idea what this creature was or what the heck this rapid-fire sniff, pounce, chew action was all about. And he especially didn’t know what to do with himself. Was this a situation like with neighbor dog Sherlock where his presumed responsibility was more or less to holler, “Quit pooping on my lawn! I’ll fight you, punk.”? Or was this more of a neighbor dog Lady situation: “Oh please oh please come closer so I can smell your crotch and make frustrated noises at you”? Or was this more of the disinterested-aggressive approach like he takes with moles: “I smell you down there. When I get you I’m going to shake you so hard and so fast that you’ll fly 15 feet then just land there, belly up, stunned and wheezing. And then I’ll sniff you once and be done with you.”?

Maybe because these all seemed like viable options, he elected to do none of the above, and instead just sat there paralyzed in confusion staring at the fox and sniffing in her direction, hoping her odor would give him some clues.

Over an hour later, at around 3:40 AM, Khan started pawing at me to wake up. This was unusual. Me being a ruthlessly stubborn sleeper, Khan has learned not to even try. He knows that he gets up when I want to get up, not the other way around.

But this time he was persistent enough and aggressive enough that it worked. I rubbed my eye sockets, put on some shorts, and wandered outside with Khan, making sure there would be no trouble with Miss Fox.

Miss Fox was nowhere to be found. But her scent evidently lingered because Khan sniffed around with fury.

Khan’s confusion was turning into frustration and maybe anger. He was visibly distraught. I just wanted to give the poor guy a hug. But just moments ago a strange creature was doing strange things in His Yard! This could have been a Threat! Or it could have been a Love! This was no time for hugs, he silently told me.

After much fury and much frustration, Khan did the only thing he knew to do: He peed. All over the place. And then called it a night.

When we came back inside Khan still seemed distressed. He was huffy. He cuddled almost angrily.

From the window we noticed some movement along the treeline. It was the fox again. Sniffing, pouncing, and chewing. Khan unleashed a hilariously loud sigh.

A little time passed during which Khan must’ve had some Great Internal Realization. For no apparent reason, and with the fox scampering around now mere paces apart from him, in areas of the lawn fresh with his pee, Khan settled in, wrapped himself into a furry ball, and snoozed as deeply as I’ve seen him snooze. God I’d like to know what he knew. It was inspirational. All that frustration and anger and confusion vacuumed out in one big silent and non-sensical whoosh.

But then, witnessing what I just did, this dog suddenly and mysteriously in a peaceful slumber, I couldn’t sleep. I needed to know what he knew.