A Dog’s Eye View of OCPD

I’ve often thought that dogs are wise and insightful, and that they’ve figured out some things that we’re still oblivious to, I mean what with our subpar nose and loss of connection to our instincts and all that. So, knowing that my neighbor Hudson is, well, a little stiff, I invited his dog, Humfrey, to give us a dog’s view of OCPD, the compulsive personality. I found him to be humorous and endearing, and his views to be insightful and moving. I hope that you will as well.

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Hello everyone. My name is Humfrey, and I’m coming to you via technological translation.

Gary has invited me to contribute a guest bark for his blog. He thought an outside view, a dog’s view of OCPD (obsessive-compulsive personality disorder), might be helpful to those of you who are curious about the human psyche. The idea is that my view will resonate more with your emotional, mammalian brain, which probably does not get enough stimulation.

We agreed that it would be good to get a canine perspective since dogs can sniff out things like cancer, cannabis and OCPD more easily than you guys can. They should have us posted at entrances to mental health clinics. We could tell them a thing or two.

I suppose another reason Gary asked me is that since I’m a Husky, I talk more than most dogs. And he has this great new app that can translate Husky into English.

Here’s what I really sound like:

 

So, I can just blather on and the app churns it out in words that humans can actually understand, rather than projecting their own loopy stuff onto us and posting it on social media, trying to make us look cute. I’m not into cute. I’m into pulling sleds.

Anyway…

A Dog’s View of OCPD

I sit in the living room watching Hudson, my owner. I love Hudson, but I find him curious and quirky, to say the least. Humans are entertaining and endearing. That’s why we dogs stay around. Not for the food or petting or health care benefits, but the utter amazement of how this strange species operates.

But they can also be utterly frustrating. Especially if you care about them.

Why does he bring his thin little box thingy into the living room now that dinner is over and we’re supposed to just be relaxing? He’s obsessed with it. I don’t know why. I mean, it’s not like it has any good smells. So, I study him carefully. He furrows his brow as he stares at the lighty thing. What could possibly be so interesting? And he occasionally says, “Oh NO!” But nothing’s happening! Talk about reactive. DOG! Oh–That’s what we say instead of MAN!

Anyway, he seems to get upset over nothing at all. I wish I knew what goes through his head, assuming anything goes through human heads. They don’t act that way. Especially the ones who are obsessive-compulsive. Their behavior makes no sense at all, so maybe it’s just a big blank screen. It’s like they’re programmed to act the way they do and they just keep acting like machines.

At least Hudson does. All order and no flexibility.

His nose doesn’t work like ours do. He’s lost all contact with instinct.

He moves his fingers frantically over the thin little box, punching these little pads with figures on them. He looks as if it all means something! He keeps hitting this little pad that has these little pictures on them like this: D-E-L-E-T-E. If I had to guess, based on his facial expression, he’s very dissatisfied.

He’s the poster child for Dhuka. That’s the Buddhist work for dissatisfaction. I rarely see a satisfied expression on his face. From a dog’s view of OCPD, it seems nothing is ever right for him. Must be hard. I feel bad for him.

Routine and Hanging On

But one thing I can say about him, he likes routine. We’re definitely on the same page about that! If the phone or doorbell rings when he’s trying to feed me he gets upset. As do I. But he gets apoplectic, and I get over it. He’s still annoyed that someone threw him off his schedule an hour later. We dogs just forget this stuff and let go of it. His brain sticks to mishaps like Gorilla Glue. Even when things get resolved, he’ll keep brooding on it till the cows come home.

He’s like that with things, too. He hangs on. Now maybe I shouldn’t bark, because I’m very attached to my toys, but he’s worse than I am. He’s like a dog with a bone! When Beth was still here she’d be all over him to get rid of useless junk. But he’d tell her that someday she’d be glad they didn’t get rid of that 8-track player! Whatever that is.

Money, Rules and Frugality

I don’t understand it, but there seems to be this thing called money that’s all important. He and Beth used to fight about it. He wanted to keep it. She wanted to use it.

We even fight about it. He takes me to the vet every year for my annual exam, shots and pedicure. Afterward they give him the bill, and every time he’s like “WHAT? Why is it so much?” I say “Hudson, don’t argue! You’re embarrassing me! I’m the one that gets the shots from these guys, not you! Don’t give them trouble!” But he doesn’t listen.

He’s got this thing about rules. Whenever I try to get on the couch he’s like “NO! BAD DOG!” All my friends get to get on the couch! How come I can’t? Do I like have B.O. or something?

Oh well. At least he knows how to scratch me. He’s very good about that. He knows exactly where and how to do it. He’s very precise.

You know what else he does that’s weird and precise? When he feeds me he uses a measuring cup. Exactly 2 cups—not a kibble less or more. Twice a day, 7AM and 7PM. On the dot, like clockwork. It’s so exact, as if I’m gonna have a fit if there isn’t enough, or lose my svelte figure if there’s too much.

Rationalization and Not Being Able to Say What He Wants

I try to supervise him when he shovels snow, but he doesn’t listen to me. He’s very risk averse so he makes it a point not to leave a bit of snow that could turn into ice. He’s afraid someone would slip and fall and sue him for all he’s worth. But he also seems to get some satisfaction out of getting it done. I suspect he justifies doing it based on the lawsuit possibility, but the truth is he finds it rewarding. Strange breed. Very strange.

Actually he does this a lot. He tries to rationalize what he thinks and does, as if he were always reasonable. As if he were always simply doing the “right” thing.

Like when he says dogs should not get on the couch. They just shouldn’t. All kinds of reasons. Dog hair gets on your clothes and stuff like that. So what if you do get dog hair on your pants? Will that trigger the apocalypse?  Is cleanliness more important than cuddling?

The real reason that he objects to dogs lying on the couch is that it makes him nervous when he feels that things aren’t perfectly clean. He likes everything pristine.

The bigger issue is that he feels it’s not acceptable for him to just want to have something a certain way, or to even just want anything at all. He has to justify it with some pretention to correctness, efficiency or efficacy. Desire has no standing in his court of law.

Sadness

I do get sad watching him though. He’s a good guy, but he’s almost never happy. I try to cheer him up at times by running in circles, making funny faces or breaking wind. He lightens up for a few minutes, but then he goes back to being sad, annoyed, or working at something.

And he can’t read the room.

Relationships

When his wife Beth left him, I felt bad for both of them. Actually I was heartbroken.

Neither one of them were angels, but I can understand what made it hard for her to stay with him. He could never get it through his thick head that she needed more than acts of service.  Rather than vacuuming the house, waxing the car, or re-re-rearranging the closets, she needed time, touch and talk. But he was too “busy” for that. He was definitely barking up the wrong tree. It was that rationalization thing again.

And she did not need the constant stream of “advice” he gave her. He thought it showed he cared. DOG he was thickheaded with her. Dogs don’t tell each other what to do, unless it’s absolutely necessary. Like “Watch out for the glass of Merlot you’re about to knock over with that fat tail of yours,” or “Watch out for the poop,” or “An intruder broke into the house. Go bite him!”

He also just didn’t get that she could have different values than him and still love him. When she didn’t take the time to turn the labels of the spice jars to the front even after he asked her to, he took it personally. He thought it meant she didn’t love him. He was wrong. And it led to a big fight.

I can relate to her side of the spice bottle debacle. She had better things to do with her time, like horseback riding, Irish dancing and hunkering down doing absolutely nothing. She’s not like some sycophant Springer Spaniel who’s obsessed with pleasing their owner. We Huskies don’t do the people-pleasing bit either. But it doesn’t mean we don’t love.

But I can also relate to him. I was bred to pull sleds, and I’ll never get to. I’m driven, but I’ll never get to drive. I don’t know what Hudson was bred for, and he doesn’t either. I hope he figures it out, cause all this energy needs somewhere to go.

Speaking of compulsives, did you guys see the trainers at the Westminster Dog show? DOG, those guys all have it really bad with the perfectionism!  And the dogs. When I was watching the show I wondered if it was all worth it. I mean sure, I bet they get a lot of treats, but personally, I prefer my freedom, autonomy, and more time to listen to my favorite song, Who Let the Dogs Out?.

Hudson and I actually had an interesting talk about this. He said being able to master something like an obstacle course could feel really satisfying. I can kind of understand that. Maybe it’s like being able to pull a sled a really long way. But I think Hudson has more of that than I do.

Responsibility and Change

In order to understand Hudson I tried to study the ethical philosophers, but I found that Aristotle, Kant, Mill and Bentham make things way more complicated than they need to be. Admittedly it’s not easy to sort out what’s not in your control and what you are responsible for. But I can say with confidence that if Hudson used the same determination to get his psychological act together that he puts into perfecting his lawn, he’d have a lot more friends and a lot more happiness.

I think that is within his control. But he focuses on controlling everything else.

They say you can’t teach an old human new tricks. I disagree. I mean he learned how to use that little thing he wears on his wrist. He’s always checking it. I can’t figure out why he needs a little machine to tell him how he feels, but he does.

This guy has no connection with his body. He couldn’t do a downward facing dog if his life depended on it.

Anyway, if he can learn how to use that tiny thing on his wrist, why can’t he learn to keep his mouth shut when people don’t want his advice?

Another way that I’ve seen him change is how he feels about me. When Beth wanted to get a dog he resisted. She insisted. I won. And despite my being a dog he’s come to love me. That’s real change.

Concluding Rebarks: What’s Important?

Speaking of advice, if I have one bit of it for humans, it’s that you could learn a lot from dogs. We keep our priorities straight, we keep things in perspective, and we don’t keep holding onto things.

If Hudson leaves me with the sitter for a few days, when he comes back, I’m like “Yipee” and I dance all around like I’m a raving lunatic to let him know I’m happy he’s back. I’m not going to be passive-aggressive and ignore him just because he abandoned me for a few days the way cats do. But those guys are genetically deficient in relational intelligence so maybe we shouldn’t blame them.

Anyway, all you need in life is food, a daily walk and many, many good, deep belly scratchings. That’s all. Humans make it far too complicated.

My final woofs: Don’t forget what’s important.