Outsmarting the Stoopid Dog
Even though our Schnauzer begs us for treats and knows we control him on the leash, somehow he still thinks he rules the roost. For example, sometimes when he's ready to call it a night he'll go into the bedroom, jump up on the bed, and bark at us in the other rooms to tell us it's time for "lights out!" How such a large sense of entitlement fits into such a little body we can’t understand.
Okay, so the dog likes people food, A LOT. You can't eat a damn thing in the house without him wanting at least a token taste. We think it has to be that "pack community" mentality, because he'll beg for a bite even when we know he has to be full, like the several times one of us has given him his bowl of food not knowing that the other had given him a bowl of food 15 minutes earlier. His begging isn't too obnoxious; unless whatever you're cooking smells really good and he gets over-excited, most of the time he just positions himself near you and stares at you. True, sometimes when you're in the corner of the kitchen, he positions himself so closely you can't leave the counter without paying him his due "food tax," but he's usually quite patient about it. Sometimes he'll tentatively touch you with his paw, always using the half-crippled leg that was hurt years ago, sort of like Tiny Tim gently touching you with his crutch - ya, he knows how to work the sympathy angle.
Anyways, the Little Old Man comes running if we even think about food. Other times – mostly when we’re telling him to quit barking at the neighbors - he pretends to be losing his hearing, but he almost always responds to the sounds of the microwave ding, plastic wrappers, silverware on plates - any food-associated sound. So, the other day, when he was napping on HIS favorite easy chair to the drone of the TV in the living room, I heated my lunch, careful to stop the microwave before it dinged. I sat on the couch with my plate on the coffee table, watching him more than the TV. I was careful to be quiet with the fork, but he stirred and sleepily looked at me. That's when I noticed that my plate happened to be behind the centerpiece decoration thingy on the coffee table, out of his view. I put my fork down and picked up a book that happened to be on the table, and I pretended to be reading. He held his sleepy head up and drowsily looked at me, apparently thinking, "I smell something, but the Stoopid Human isn't eating anything, so maybe I'm not quite awake." He'd put his head down, and I'd sneak a bite. He'd lift his head and look at me; I'd hold the book open in front of my face, peeking at him over the top. He'd put his head down, and I'd sneak a bite. He'd lift his head and . . . you get the idea. I ate my whole lunch that way.
FINALLY, FINALLY, I fooled that stoopid little munch-face dog! Yea for me! Woo-hoo!
So, if you ever think that YOUR life is not so rich and full, or if feel that you’re not King or Queen of your castle, just remember how I have to eat my lunch . . .
