Jonesin' for doggy crack
Anyone who doesn't believe that animals are intelligent, capable creatures capable of manipulating their human owners needs to meet my dog, Casey.
Casey does a good job pulling off the, "I'm just a stupid dog," routine. She stares blankly at you when you call her name. She chomps the air at flies. She licks her own butt and eats poop that she finds on her walks.
But I'm not fooled--this mutt is actually a master of manipulation.
I know this because I've gotten her hooked on doggy crack.
Technically, on the package, it's called "Pup Corn." (Isn't that cute? And the little pieces are these orange, light and fluffy, dog-shaped nibbles that resemble, in an abstract way, real human popcorn.) I started giving it to Casey as a little treat before I left for work in the morning--a kind of apology for abandonning her all day.
Then when Casey began to get wise to the time I left every day, she would bark to be let outside. When I had to leave, she would refuse to come in.
I had no choice--I started using Pup Corn as a bribe. A bribe that has turned into a disaster--a true doggy addiction.
Suddenly Casey was figuring out ways to get the Pup Corn. In the mornings, she would demand to go outside and then bark to be let in, but refuse to come in unless I had Pup Corn in hand. Next she began to try the same shenanigans at the back door. Finally, she even started waking me up in the middle of the night, jonesing for a midnight Pup Corn snack.
I'm getting wise to it, and refuse to indulge her when she gets demanding. My roommate is not so fortunate, as he still sees Casey as the cute, funny dog who lives in the house, not as the manipulative, evil bitch who rules the roost.
I got a call this afternoon on my cell phone.
"Sarah, I'm sorry to bother you at work, but... Casey's bowl is empty and she wants more food. Do you know where it is?"
I was immediately suspicious. Every morning, I pour Casey a bowl of food and allow her to graze throughout the day. She rarely finishes it.
"Why do you think she wants more food?" I asked.
"Well, she came upstairs and brought me down to her bowl and then just stared at it."
Smart dog. Except I know what she's really begging for. I told him where the food was, but not the Pup Corn. I know when I go home tonight, there will still be a full bowl of food where he left it. It's not kibble she's after, it's doggy crack.
And she's one helluva smart dog, whatever I may say about her behind her back.
Casey does a good job pulling off the, "I'm just a stupid dog," routine. She stares blankly at you when you call her name. She chomps the air at flies. She licks her own butt and eats poop that she finds on her walks.
But I'm not fooled--this mutt is actually a master of manipulation.
I know this because I've gotten her hooked on doggy crack.
Technically, on the package, it's called "Pup Corn." (Isn't that cute? And the little pieces are these orange, light and fluffy, dog-shaped nibbles that resemble, in an abstract way, real human popcorn.) I started giving it to Casey as a little treat before I left for work in the morning--a kind of apology for abandonning her all day.
Then when Casey began to get wise to the time I left every day, she would bark to be let outside. When I had to leave, she would refuse to come in.
I had no choice--I started using Pup Corn as a bribe. A bribe that has turned into a disaster--a true doggy addiction.
Suddenly Casey was figuring out ways to get the Pup Corn. In the mornings, she would demand to go outside and then bark to be let in, but refuse to come in unless I had Pup Corn in hand. Next she began to try the same shenanigans at the back door. Finally, she even started waking me up in the middle of the night, jonesing for a midnight Pup Corn snack.
I'm getting wise to it, and refuse to indulge her when she gets demanding. My roommate is not so fortunate, as he still sees Casey as the cute, funny dog who lives in the house, not as the manipulative, evil bitch who rules the roost.
I got a call this afternoon on my cell phone.
"Sarah, I'm sorry to bother you at work, but... Casey's bowl is empty and she wants more food. Do you know where it is?"
I was immediately suspicious. Every morning, I pour Casey a bowl of food and allow her to graze throughout the day. She rarely finishes it.
"Why do you think she wants more food?" I asked.
"Well, she came upstairs and brought me down to her bowl and then just stared at it."
Smart dog. Except I know what she's really begging for. I told him where the food was, but not the Pup Corn. I know when I go home tonight, there will still be a full bowl of food where he left it. It's not kibble she's after, it's doggy crack.
And she's one helluva smart dog, whatever I may say about her behind her back.
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