Evil Genius

Dogs are very sly creatures, you know. They live just under our radar. We take for granted that they're always there, but they have their own agenda. As we go along with our lives, so busy and distracted with the current emergency, our pets sit at our heals, along the sidelines you could say.

They are the constant observers. I'm shamed to say that I think my dogs know me better than I know myself. They effectively use my own behavior against me. I'm beginning to think less and less that my husband and I trained THEM, and more that we're the ones who've been trained all along.

It starts in the morning. Our first task is to let the dogs out of their crates to go outside. They come back in at their leisure, after sniffing and licking everything in the yard that tickles their fancy. When they're finished, and not a moment sooner, they wait at their bowls to get fed. In the event that they aren't fed directly upon return, they find me and persuade me back to the kitchen, where they look expectantly at where their food should be. I'm forgiven for my tardiness, but I get the impression that they are noting my mistake somewhere.

Samson and Sadie know my language. They know the tone of my voice, and I'm convinced they even know how to spell. Initially, I could ask my husband if he'd "taken the dogs out." Now, any mention or variation of this question or the word "OUT" peaks their ears, and to the door they go (whether or not they were just there...) It's come to the point where I have to ask (in monotone, as not to influx my voice) whether or not "the animals have been relieved recently." And even so, I think they're catching on, because they look at each other and at the kitchen, waiting for one of us to move that direction so they can again be free to roam at their discretion.

They refuse to go potty in the rain. We live outside Seattle, so this can be an interesting issue. Samson is so sensitive (more like prissy) about wet grass or rain that he will actually trail under the awning of our house to make sure he stays dry. As of recent, he's decided that it's too much of a bother to go into the outside air before bed, and instead goes straight into his crate to sleep when he thinks it's bedtime. We know this isn't good for him, because that means he has to hold his bladder all night, but it's his word against ours, and unfortunately he's got a stronger will to stay in his crate than we have to make him leave.

One of the most startling revelations that our dogs know too much came one night before bed. It wasn't particularly late, but Marc and I were getting ready to turn in. We'd mentioned a while before that we were getting tired, and would head to bed when the show was over. Well, Marc was on the laptop and I was sitting next to him. Samson and Sadie were laying on the couch next to us, in and out of consciousness as usual. The credits rolled, and Marc simply shut the laptop. At this, Samson immediately jumped off the couch and walked straight to his crate to turn in for the night.

We were in shock. Not a word had been spoken to either dog, and no other inclination had been made that it was time to get "in the crate." Samson knew our behavior so well that he understood it was bedtime without us saying or doing anything else to insinuate it. Now THAT is freaky.

So, the ultimate question is: Who's in control here? According to any who know our dogs, they are very well trained. They know commands and obey them (for the most part) and are very smart. From an outside observer, we've done well as owners and have great pets. To anyone "in the know," however, my husband and I are the ones obeying the wordless commands of our dogs.

Sadie knows that if she needs to go out, she simply jumps on the couch (if I'm on it), stands on my stomach and puts her cute little nose DIRECTLY in my face. Here my only option is to look straight down into her huge eyes as she literally holds her breath and waits for me to move. It's a staring contest, honestly. If I don't move, she licks my face and jumps on my chest, trying to be as annoying as doggedly possible. Once I caught on to this behavior, I tried to put a stop to it-- quick. My argument is that she should not be able to bully me into letting her out; she should be patient. The end result was that she got what she wanted even quicker, and I simply tried to be annoyed less. I gave in, and she gained control. How sad is THAT?

It's a bizarre day when you realize your dogs are smarter than you. No, they may not mess on the floor or tear things up-- the mark of a well-trained beast. But the real test is what little they have to do in order to get what they want.

So the next time you are feeding your dog, taking it out, or getting it a toy, ask yourself: Exactly which of you has been trained?