Buddy, Our Dog’s Hidden Superpower

I never truly believed people who said dogs have a sixth sense. Then our dog started detecting my PSP episodes before my wife and I knew they were happening, time after time.

Before COVID, I wasn’t really a dog person (that is British understatement). The hair, the smell, the barking, the puddles on the floor, the endless licking… none of it appealed to me. If you had told me one day I’d be writing an article thanking a dog, I would have laughed.

Then Buddy arrived.

Buddy is our Maltese, and somewhere during those strange COVID years I quietly became a dog person. Well… perhaps not a dog person. A Buddy person.

Now, before anyone imagines we own some extraordinary super-dog, let me lower expectations. Buddy is not one of those unbelievable canines that rescue people after earthquakes, detect drugs at airports or sniff out explosives. He has received no specialist training whatsoever. In fact, at the moment we’re trying to teach him not to bark every time somebody comes through the front door or while we’re eating. That is currently the pinnacle of his professional education.

He is, however, unquestionably the cutest dog in the world.

I appreciate every dog owner reading this has just rolled their eyes because they believe exactly the same thing about their own dog.

It’s my blog. So that obviously means I’m right.

If Buddy were applying for a job, his CV would probably contain just three specialist skills:

Detecting treats from anywhere in the house, barking sweetly at anyone who comes through the front door, and apparently detecting my PSP episodes before any human being does.

The first two are entirely believable.

The third is much harder to explain.

It has happened again and again over the past few years, and it happened once more last night. Fortunately, this time it turned out to be nothing serious.

My wife and I were watching Netflix when I gradually became unusually rigid. I wasn’t frozen exactly, but I was sitting bolt forwards and upright in a completely unnatural way, staring at the television, taking everything in while only half responding to questions and conversation. At the time, I didn’t realise anything unusual was happening. Neither did my wife.

Buddy did.

Several minutes before either of us realised anything was wrong, Buddy began barking at me in a way that was completely different from his normal bark. He had climbed up beside me and wouldn’t take his eyes off me. Then the barking started.

I have since realised that he makes exactly the same bark whenever he senses something unusual: an alert siren, a power cut or one of my PSP episodes. It isn’t the bark that says, “I want food,” or, “Let me outside.”

It’s the bark that says, “Pay attention.” He simply wanted my attention, and neither of us could work out why.

Only a few minutes later it became obvious that I was having another PSP episode. Once again, Buddy had noticed something before either of us had. It’s happened dozens of times now.

Back when I was still walking, Buddy would often react when I was beginning to lose my balance, usually before anyone else realised I was about to fall. When I felt he’d be the first one to get to me every time, licking my face unfortunately. When I was still eating a normal diet and choked, Buddy frequently sensed something was wrong before everyone around the table understood what was happening.

Now, when I become unusually rigid, unusually slow, or drift into one of these strange neurological episodes, he often seems to know before the humans in the room do.

I honestly can’t explain it.

Perhaps he can smell something that changes. Perhaps he notices tiny differences in my breathing, posture or facial expression that the rest of us completely miss. Or perhaps there is another explanation altogether.

Curious whether I was imagining all of this, I went looking for answers.

This morning I discovered there is actually research suggesting dogs can detect changes in human physiology. They have been shown to alert to seizures before they occur, recognise changes in blood sugar, detect certain infections and even identify some cancers, although scientists are still trying to understand exactly how they do it. Their sense of smell is extraordinary, but so too is their ability to notice subtle changes in behaviour that most of us would never see.

Whether that’s what Buddy is doing, I genuinely don’t know. I only know what I have experienced.

Too many times now, he has reacted before the rest of us realised something wasn’t quite right. After seeing it happen again and again, I have long stopped dismissing it as coincidence.

Living with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP) means constantly adapting to surprises, but Buddy may be the most unexpected helper I’ve found along the way.

PSP has taught me many things I never expected to learn. One of them is just how remarkable dogs can be. Before COVID, I wasn’t really a dog person.

Today I love Buddy.

PSP has taken away many things I once took for granted. But it has also revealed acts of loyalty, kindness and companionship that I might otherwise have overlooked.

Buddy is one of those gifts. Whatever his secret is, I simply wanted to give him the recognition he deserves.

So thank you, Buddy.

You will never read this article. If I printed it on soft paper, you’d probably eat it before finishing the first paragraph. You have absolutely no interest in blog posts and, as far as I know, you’ve never even visited my website.

If any readers have noticed something similar with their own dog or other pet, I’d genuinely love to hear about it.

Perhaps Buddy isn’t as unusual as I once thought.

Or perhaps, like many of the best things in life, dogs understand far more than we give them credit for.