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A big dog, hairy and rust-coloured with black paws. Intelligent face, strong, wolf-looking shoulders. He seemed to be all on his own as I met him on the sidewalk, and an unleashed (big) dog makes me nervous. And then I heard his owner calling him. She was a chubby petite in an expensive-looking white winter coat. "Peaches," she called. Peaches looked at her. "Come on," she called as she walked past me. Peaches promptly ran across the street, mouth wide open and tongue lolling in a mocking laugh.
The owner called him several more times in vain, and then she tried a classic exasperated-mother trick (which doesn't work more than once on any toddler): "Okay, Peaches, I'm going. Here I go. You can't come with me. Have a nice day on your own, Peaches. Have a nice LIFE." (This last part was, I assume, for my benefit.) Throughout these threats Peaches had turned to look at her, head cocked, very alert. He obviously understood everything she was saying. But he also knew, from past experience, that her threats were empty. So Peaches turned around, tail high, and loped away, happy as could be.
By now the owner was sputtering, perhaps embarrassed that I could see how completely out of control her dog was. Peaches romped through the parking lot and I was startled when I found him waiting for me between two parked cars, but it was clear by now that Peaches was so busy amusing himself with this game that he had no interest in frightening me.
I continued to my appointment. Peaches continued playing catch-me-if-you-can. The owner continued to call him with a complete lack of authority in her voice.
What do you do when the dog is smarter than its human roommate?
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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