The World's Smartest Dog!
The smartest dog in the world belongs to everyone who loves their dog. Mine is no exception! Thing is, he was never trained in the normal sense. His first owner; my father, succeeded at getting Charlie (my dog, now) to become house broken. My folks died when Charlie was still a pup. Guess who adopted him?
I never wanted the responsibility associated with owning a dog. A dog is a great addition to a family…it completes the family package. Charlie and I have been family now for ten years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way…
For the first five years, Charlie—as was I—were fortunate enough to live in homes with doggie doors allowing him to come and go as he pleased. And once he got used to the door, he did come and go with frequency. The latter five years found us living in other circumstances like apartments that don’t allow such grand luxuries so Charlie must be walked.
Charlie never was leash trained. As a small pup, my father simply dragged him here and there. So, the first step was to purchase a harness which worked great for me but Charlie loathed it. It didn’t take long for him to figure out a leash was much better and he leash trained himself to avoid the harness! Really, I had nothing to do with it.
The first time I realized Charlie could understand certain words began with my yelling, “Book!” at him for some reason or the other that I no longer can recall. He sharply spun around and looked out the sliding glass door. Realizing through his reaction that he must have thought I said, “Look!” I yelled, “Look” once again and he responded the same way by looking out the large glass door.
Through the years Charlie has responded to many phrases or taught himself to alert me to his needs with any antic he can use to garner my attention to those needs. Each time he does so makes me realize how much I love this dog. And how much it will hurt when he is no longer with me.
Recently, I muttered, “I’m sorry Charlie” again for who knows what reason. Charlie’s reaction was extremely odd. He stopped playing with his favorite toy and quick stepped to where I was sitting. He then stood on his hind legs whilst he placed his forelegs on my leg and then he placed a big, sloppy wet muzzle nuzzle on my face. Later that evening I repeated the phrase and he jumped up on the sofa with me—curling close by my side. I’ll never know what the trigger was that caused him to react so lovingly.
When Charlie needs to go outside to conduct his business, I can tell by his actions whether he needs to accomplish his big or small business so to speak. A high pitched, short whine alerts me to his need to sniff around and liquidate whereas his need to accomplish his bigger business is made known to me by his running and slamming both his front paws into my side nearly knocking me out of my desk chair (where I usually am when he needs to go). I didn’t teach him any of this. He taught me.
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