Anytime I have a litter coming, I begin the process of getting to know the folks who are waiting on puppies. Invariably there are several who make the statement to the effect that they want their pups as young as possible so they can begin "the bonding process." One can never know precisely what someone else means by that, but I tend to assume that what they really mean is they don't want to deprive themselves of puppy breath and lots of puddles.
Baby puppies, very young babies, don't bond in the same way that an older pup or adult does...they're a lot like baby humans who can be handed from one capable adult to another without much fuss. They're trusting. They haven't learned that there are things to be feared in the Big Bad Out There, and their worldview barely recognizes the distinction between self and other. Any female dog will do when a baby puppy is hungry, it's only when the non-mom unceremoniously snarls and snaps that baby comprehends the necessity of maintaining the distinction between mom and non-mom if he wishes to avoid injury.
When visitors come, they see the puppies tag after me everywhere and assume they're bonded to me...but they'll follow anybody. Sure, given a choice they'll follow me versus you because I'm the Food Bringer. Three times a day since their foggiest recollections, my scent, footsteps, and voice correlate with the magical appearance of lusciously tasty grub. They come running if I call them because they associate the particular way I say "here puppy, puppy!" with the gratification of warm, full bellies. But they'll follow you just as willingly once you replace me in that roll. The instincts of survival are so imperative they can't help but stick close to the one who provisions them with the necessities of life. They imprint, not bond. They are cute, sweet, funny, heart-warming little users! But are they bonded? Huh-uh. Not yet, not when they're utterly dependent. So, to say that a baby pup needs to be acquired early in order to "bond" to a human owner is misleading and perhaps a tad egoistic.
Give me a dog, a grown up dog that's got a heart and soul looking back at me when I make eye contact. One who has seen a few things, been around a bit, can think for itself and chooses to be my partner. I love meeting adult dogs; sometimes there's an instant liking, an attraction of chemistry not unlike the way interactions with certain total strangers can seem like becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Dogs are what they are, they don't hide behind facades, and they evaluate me even more thoroughly than I can possibly scrutinize them...because they cheat, they have built in chromatography! Their noses enable them to know my emotional state even if I don't; they know my health, my status, probably what I ate for dinner last night. I can exchange a bond of trust with a dog in an instant, and that dog will remember me even if I don't come 'round again for a year. Those bonds, the recognition of a kindred soul that is revealed when we are real and open to such exchanges, outlast the moment, and sustain us in the lonely interludes when it seems there is no one and no thing that we can count on.
