I thought, just for the briefest of moments, that Zooey had climbed up a few rungs on the canine intelligence ladder. You may remember my lament when I realized that she was not going to let us retire in luxury because she sorely lacks the superior intelligence that other notable dogs possess. She's not like Astro or Lassie. Or Scooby or Rin Tin Tin. She's never pulled a child out of harm's way or solved a ghost mystery. Or been able to master running on a treadmill. She's just an ordinary tail-wagging, tongue-hanging-out-of-her-mouth, fur-shedding black lab. The definitive moment came when I told her to go get her gun and she brought back her ball, which really isn't a ball at all, but that's what we call it, so how smart can we be?
Anyway, yesterday, after going downstairs to do a few chores I headed back up to the sweatshop, expecting Zooey to charge past me and hop around excitedly until I lumbered up the stairs, like she does every single day. But she didn't. As soon as I walked into my office I knew why. She'd gotten in the trash. It was all over the place. After I quit muttering and had picked up the mess I walked over to the stairs, prepared to yell, "Bad dog, Zooey!" As I poked my head over the half wall, I could barely see Zooey's head, just peeking in the door. Her head was kind of lowered and she was looking up at me with some pretty pitiful eyes. SHE KNOWS SHE'S DONE SOMETHING BAD! And she knew I was going to be displeased with her, which, to a dog is possibly the worst feeling ever. I was so excited I almost did a jig. Zooey IS a super dog because she knows right from wrong! I'd always heard that unless you catch a dog in the act of misbehaving it's useless to reprimand them because they won't remember what they've done wrong. HA! I went ahead and yelled at her anyway, because clearly she was suffering remorse from her transgression and I wanted to implant that memory firmly in her dog brain.
About half an hour later she comes slinking into my office. She hadn't made a sound coming up the stairs; I can usually hear her toenails clipping up the steps so she had to be veeeeerrrrrry sneaky. I didn't say a word. I figured, lesson learned.
Two hours later she got into the trash again. Not a super dog AT ALL.
1 comment:
ahahahahhaha. omg.
petey does the most pitiful face when we tell him that something is "gross" like eating poop on the bed. he rolls over on his back like a bowling pin and seriously "plays dead." he won't move for HOURS.. well, MINUTES. sometimes he pees himself a bit after rolling on his back, but that makes everyone feel bad, even though i know it's a pity pee and he's not really scared. still, makes you feel like hitler if he does it... and in a few days he's back to being his gross self with poop on the bed.
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