Tale of an Introvert and Her Wildly Extroverted Dog

Sunshine (left), at Boris & Horton dog-people cafe in New York City, at a reunion with three of the five puppies in the litter she had before Nancy adopted her.

Source: Nancy Ancowitz

Let me start from a serious place. I’m an introvert with a wildly extroverted dog, Sunshine, who radiates exuberance and brightens my life every day. Dogs and other domestic animals provide support and companionship that can mirror aspects of human relationships, contributing positively to health and well-being (McNicholas & Collis, 2000). Survey results from the Human Animal Bond Research Institute highlight that the human-animal bond can significantly improve emotional health and life satisfaction (HABRI, 2022). Additionally, dogs offer unconditional love and acceptance – not to mention the perfect excuse for introverts “to go straight home after work or leave a party early” (Introvert, Dear, 2022).

Both dogs and humans can exhibit introverted and extroverted preferences. Introverted dogs, like introverted humans, often prefer solitude and quiet environments, while extroverted dogs often thrive on social interaction (Jovellar, 2024; Hepper, 2024). So, despite our differing temperaments, Sunshine and I enrich each other's lives in meaningful ways. At least, that’s my perspective.

***

I’ll continue from a more whimsical place. Sunshine dictated this into my computer (with an assist from a mashup of generative AI, my anthropomorphic projections, and putative canine telepathy):

I first met my current human mom during a 15-minute speed-date-style adoption event after a volunteer-type person nudged me awake from a nap in a cage that barely contained my then scrawny boxer-mix frame.

My mom-candidate waited for me outside my van with a big smile on her human snout and open arms. Recently driven in from rural Kentucky, I was trying hard to be the best version of myself in Manhattan, a.k.a. Mars. Meanwhile, my mom-to-be checked me out from the other end of the leash during our Martian mini-walk.

At first, I had high hopes for her. When she put her face up to mine, I felt warm all over, eliciting a purr from the depths of my doggo torso. From my slobbery jowls to my waggy tail, I wanted to be wanted. Forever, this time. Also fed, as in predictably. And at the risk of sounding bougie, snuggled. Fast forwarding more than a year, I pray to Dog that forever is now, with heaping bowls of kibble and a cherry on top.

Eventually, I got to know some of my human mom’s quirks – like even though she’s a self-described introvert with humans, she stops myriad strange dogs on the street to fluff them while squealing and making kissy lips. Seriously, she barely needs a wag in her direction to melt her into a pool over even the motliest of mugs. As if I’m not the dog with the max charisma, or “rizz,” as Gen-Z calls my magnetism!

Introvert? Extrovert? Huh? My mom will be the first to tell you that those aren’t labels – no more than my deafness defines me. We’re all complex creatures. Yes, I express myself verbally a lot, like many extroverts, yet I can’t hear myself talk. My mom spends a lot of time trying to decipher my every woof and whimper. Sweet.

Still, at the risk of sounding like a teenage werewolf’s rant, do you know what it’s like to have an introvert as your social secretary, who you rely on to organize your play dates? Seriously, as a raving extrovert, I gain joy and energy from interacting with dogs and people alike – the more the merrier. Nothing makes me happier than slobbering the face of a sweaty human, savoring a hearty butt rub, or romping with doggos like me, who play all-in, mixed-martial-arts style.

Yet, my human mom is a cave dweller in our city high-rise. She’s loathe to invite people over. I’d welcome anyone. The cable guy. Con Ed. Whatevs. I’ve scratched scrawls on the walls of her dwelling: “Take me out to a place where I can meet and greet and romp and play.” My mom has made a career out of being an introvert who raises awareness to help introvert humans with their careers. Nice, but what’s in it for me? As if I give a rat’s ass about careers. Although, if my mom would let me, I would make a darned good rat czar. Ooo, a fly!

Introversion Essential Reads

Are You a Wild Introvert?

Popcorn Feedback: Navigating Critiques Without the Noise

Where was I? I discovered a silver lining in the cloud of my mom constantly tapping her keyboard alone – as well as flapping her gums with human heads on her monitor (and the occasional dog or cat). Those humans never come over with the rest of their bodies. Since mom rarely engages me in her discussions with human heads and when there aren't chewy toys for me to gnaw on, I’ve learned to just chew on my thoughts.

It's funny where life takes us. What if a raving extrovert had adopted me? I fantasize about playing all day, tagging along at beach parties and barbecues. We’d have guests over all the time. But what if my humans were out of the apartment all day advancing their careers? I’d be alone. A lone wolf. Nooooo. What a nightmare. Seeing the bowl half full, dance like Snoopy, the famous cartoon Beagle (people say I have some Beagle in me too!). Who’s a lucky dog?

Sunshine’s puppy reunion with three of her pups and several of their human companions, as well as dog trainers Martin and Christian of Doggie Dojo (foreground)

Source: Nancy Ancowitz

***

It’s me again, Nancy. I’m a lucky dog, too – now back in my serious place. To Sunshine’s point, I do err on the side of being a cave dweller, and without any self-judgment. I venture out sometimes for my career. But also, in the year since I adopted Sunshine, I’ve enjoyed having an excuse to go out into the world and meet random dogs and sometimes even their humans – who are often charmed by my beaming bowser.

A study in the journal Anthrozoos shows that extroverts are more likely to be “dog people” than introverts (Gosling, Sandy, & Potter, 2010). So, what am I doing with a dog? To Sunshine’s point, we’re all complex creatures. Meanwhile, here’s to dogs and humans, introverts and extroverts, and celebrating life with other beings!

Copyright 2024 © Nancy Ancowitz