It’s kind of amazing, really, the way the cat picks up on the nature of the dogs we puppysit even before we do. The last one was, well, a little hysterical about meeting her. This one is one of the calmest young pups we’ve had around… he’s another of those lovely dogs who want you to be happy.
Puppy: Herrrow
Cat: Excuse me?
Puppy: Herrrow nice to meetcha
Cat, to me: Is this thing male or female? and why is it’s face like that?
Me: He’s a beauty, isn’t he? Got a fair amount of golden mixed in with that lab, and it shows. Not too much floof, but the slender face and calmer demeanor.
Cat: Looks like a capybara got nasty with a warthog. Goldens… dumb as a rock. Labs… more intelligent but also pushy as hell and they eat my breakfast. Well, so do the goldens, but it takes them longer to figure out where it is.
Me: That is not very nice. Not only that, he’s a mix, so he’s got the best of both worlds… calmer yet intelligent.
The dog, attempting to grab something out of the toy bin, fell over.
Cat: Yep.
I was wearing my treat pouch around my waist as the dog had just arrived. It’s best to be ready to incentivize good behavior when they’re not familiar with the situation, but this lad was seriously pushy about getting into the yummies.
Then I realized I’d been wearing it at the GDA open house, and I had high value treats in there. Normally treats are just their regular kibble, and they’re fine with that as a reward.
High value treats, though, are enough to make a retriever swoon. I had him sit and he snarfed a couple and was gunning for more.
Puppy: I can sit you wanna see me lie down I can do close and stay and come I really like come because I’m so good at it and well you gotta give me more treats and those are deeeeelish oh look the cat
MaeMae was downstairs in Granny’s flat (she has the bottom floor of our tri-level, which we gate off so Granny and the cat can be there undisturbed) and the dog spied her through the fence.
Goldens might be known for their… uh… less than stellar intellect but this boy is freaking smart. He immediately worked out how to shove the gate aside and skidded down the steps.
Cat: shit.
Puppy: herrow I come meet you
Boy (my son, now 28): hey get back here! (and he shot downstairs to retrieve the retriever) C’mere!
Me: Puppy, COME!
EEEEERK went his paws as he threw on the brakes. Cat? What cat? Screw the cat.
Puppy, desperate to get to those treaties, but blocked by the Boy: um excuse me tryin’ to get upstairs no don’t grab my collar scuse me GET OUTTA MY WAAAAAAAY
The pupper rounded the gate and in two leaps was in front of me, eyes wide and butt firmly planted on the ground. Gotta love those food motivated animals. And Trader Joe’s beef sticks for dogs. Break ’em into pieces, the hounds’ eyes roll back in their heads in ecstacy.
I don’t think he’s finished growing yet.
Examining Misadventures 