Dog’s Favorite Word is “Hanukah,” but “Present” is a Close Runner-up

When I adopted my dog, Rocket, from a no-kill rescue as a five-month old baby, I knew he had a great understanding of English, not just his native, “Bark.” He does not speak English and only writes in symbolic “Paw,” but he is mainly Terrier, so I believe he understands English since most Terriers originally migrated from the British Isles. His religious background is questionable.

Rocket took over the household in May, and by his October birthday, he had become the pack leader of the neighborhood canines, and well, the people, too. A Jewish friend was staying with us, so that December, we decided to celebrate Hanukah .

I had not celebrated Hanukah since moving out of my parents’ home. Possessing no Hanukah “gear,” I bought a menorah, candles, eight little dog gifts, a dreidel, and chocolate coins, or gelt, Yiddish for money.

Dreidel is gambling for children using pebbles or beans like poker chips. Kids trade bean jackpots in for chocolate coins, or if grandpa visits, U.S. Treasury gelt. Fortunately, Rocket does not like chocolate as it is deadly when ingested by dogs. However, he does like paper gelt, shredding several greenbacks during puppyhood. He took his turn with the rest of the kids, but traded his winnings for chicken. That worked for him.

Tradition in my childhood home was to light the candles, say the three accompanying prayers, and then rip into your gift. Hanukah was not a gift-giving holiday until 20th century Jewish kids got jealous of their Christian peers who got major booty found under Christmas trees. A small gift is now given each night after gelt boycott and revolt occurred. Lucky kids would get seven token gifts in anticipation of the big gift on the last night.

Rocket’s first Hanukah started with us lighting the menorah. Then, I opened up the utility closet and gave him a wrapped toy. Like most babies, ripping the paper rocked. Gift wrap is ok to shred, not gelt. Bored with the toy after 30 seconds, he wanted to go outside. He loves the cold, so these journeys lasted about an hour. Along the way, several neighbors bestowed gifts on the popular pack leader.

On night two, after candles, his head immediately looked at the “gift closet.” I opened the door and out came another present. After confetti-making and contents merely sniffed, out the door we went. This parlay netted him a stuffed alligator from a feline friend. Grabbing it from kitty’s mom, he turned and rushed home. Yelling a thank you, I was curious regarding this about-face as our walks seemed endless.

Home late from work on night three, candles had to wait as Rocket needed to “go.” We met up with a dog friend and parent, and proceeded. After 15 minutes, dog mom asks with no change in her voice, “Do you celebrate Hanukah?” Rocket comes to a screeching halt, does a 180, and pulls hard to get home with no obvious reason. She said “Hanukah” again. Rocket jumped up and pulled even harder toward home. In only three days, Hanukah meant present.

Since, when he sees the menorah being lit, tail starts wagging as he stands in front of the “treasure chest door.” Clearly, Hanukah and present remain in his vocabulary.

Rocket celebrates his sixth this year. Although amazed at his excitement, the 48-hour detox after eight days of” candle-then-gift” is rough, especially abstaining from saying Hanukah and present. However, anyone’s birthday or mention of “presents,” elicits the same puppy-like response.


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