What would happen is the owner would arrive home, open her front door and there would be her dog, her tail wagging to beat the proverbial band. On the middle of the owner’s living room floor would be a pile of not particularly well-defined dumped doggie doo doo.
Didn’t seem to matter how often the owner blasphemed, jammed the dog’s nozzle into the poop and tossed her out the window. Because the next day and the next day the same mess was waiting for the owner.
Always the same dog discipling approach. The said owner would open the door, see the pile of dog crap, would loudly reprimand, grab the dog, stick the dog’s nose into the crap and then toss the stubborn doggie out the window.
This particular day, however, the dog took control of the disciplining technique. She ran up to the owner, tail wagging like crazy, then ran to the doo doo, jammed her nose into the pile and then, to her owner’s surprise, leapt out the window, all by her little lonesome.
My question is, what had the dog learned by being shouted at, having his nose jammed into his mess and then being tossed out the window?
Years ago, I got a phone call at work. A partner of mine had had a canine incident which upset her. You see, what happened, was while I was at work, my partner had heard a knock on the door.
When she opened the door, who should be standing there, but a man. He was a nice fella, I can vouch for that. There he was, standing in the doorway, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
The nice man, who lived in our apartment building, stepped in and handed the flowers to my partner.
My partner, trying to get my dog to nice it up a touch or two, said to our dog, Fido, “It’s okay, Fido. It’s okay.”
Fido, using, I believe, the same sort of canine reasoning as the dog in the previous story, thought, “I guess it’s okay if I’m told it’s okay.” So, he bit the nice man. I’m assuming because he was told it was okay.
So, I got this phone call from my troubled partner.
I said, “Let me get this straight. A man came to our apartment. He came to give you some flowers and Fido bit him. Did I get this right?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“So what’s the problem?” I asked.
I took the elevator up to the eighth floor and knocked on the nice man’s door. I wanted to apologize. He opened the door. His two dogs poured out. They were all over me. They were so happy to see me and made a big fuss over me as if I was the King of Spain.
I apologized extra profusely because his dogs treated me with such respect, dignity and love.
Suddenly, we heard a thunk, thunk. We also heard a rattle, rattle. I looked up and there was Buster. He had banged his water dish with his nose and then to make his point extra clear, he’d begun to bang his nose against our big drinking water bottle.
After Buster had his fill, he jumped up on the couch and sat beside me.
Oh, but Buster was getting rather aggressive with his paw. See Buster get aggressive. Look, Sue, look.
Sorry. Grade one flashbacks.
What he was up to was he was explaining to me, by using forceful pointing that he wanted a piece of gum which was in my top pocket.
I didn’t give him any because he can’t chew gum, but only licks off the gum’s yummy sweet taste and then leaves the denuded piece of gum on the floor.
See Buster nose or paw tap Sue’s walking boots. Oh look. See Buster nose or paw tap the treat bottle, the blue leash, the food dish, the coat, the truck keys, his tea cup, Olvatine cup, Sue’s bowl of ice cream, my steak, the front door, the toilet bowl. Go Buster go.