An NY Times reader's comment (no. 72 in 'Leopard Behind You' article)

"Years ago, when my dog Storm was still alive, we were walking along North Thompson River in Interior of British Columbia. It was fall, weather was gorgeous and we were light hearted. We were walking in the riverbed, about 4 feet below bank that had thick bushes. Suddenly, dog Storm sat down and refused to move. I said, “What’s up, Storm? “ He looked me directly in the eye and said most clearly, “Bear in Bush.”

I looked up the bank and he was right! There was a large 500 pound black bear in the bush not more than five feet from me. I decided to walk calmly away and Storm joined me. When we got 150 feet away, we both broke into a run. Storm did the smart thing by running slightly faster than I. But who could blame him?

Years later, I still remember the woof, “Bear in Bush”, with great affection. Dogs can talk. One only has to understand the vocabulary.

— Joe (Burnaby, BC)

  Totally Committed

I give thanks for unknown blessings already on the way

 We only need to tune into them to understand.  Tundra mimics me, and others.  

Dogs can learn, through conditioning, to understand what we say (sit, lie down, stay, come, go around the pole the other way, etc...), so they can "learn" our language...

My point is that if they can so easily understand our words, even through conditioning, why would they not have their own words, or sounds?

Even the birdies in our yard, who sound like a loud concert all day, suddenly and all at once grow completely quiet (silent) when a falcon flies over.  It's as though someone, one or more of the birds, has sounded some type of alarm. 

Plays well with others