Word recognition.
According to a psychologist, a dog can learn approximately 165 words. I shudder to look back at my early illiterate posts. As a pup education was just "something for others to worry about". I was too busy being pretty. Well, I am still busy being pretty, just with a better vocabulary. My (and Jasper's) late friend Ewan, of limited brain but infinite affection, would probably have interpreted this as, and been happy with, learning the same word 165 times.
My recognition of words sometimes prompts amusement. My mistress's mother (my GrannaPea) generally says "Right!" whenever movement is imminent; from her chair, out the door, to the kitchen, etc., any or all of which might involve a treat for me. And so what is a girl to do but respond appropriately? I leap up, eager for my prize. I have learned the times at which it is most likely to occur and am subtly on the watch. Last night, for example, I perfected the art of soundly sleeping without actually being asleep. I even snored. When the "right!" came I went in a heartbeat from snoring and twitching to being bright, alert and squeaking for the off. No-one appreciated my skill and I was laughed at. Cruel. Actually, I am often laughed at for responding enthusiastically at every uttered "right!". But I get my revenge. I do.
Mistress has another word for me: "mistress". Or, more specifically "mistress of the protest-pee". Because, even if my bladder is empty and running on dry, I am able to produce a noxious brew of pee, expertly directed where it is least-likely to be welcome. I have climbed shelves in the airing cupboard, taken items from a clothes-line or a peg and when the boiler cupboard was emptied of sheets and clothes for the annual boiler-service I nearly died of dehydration. Each item had to be washed twice. Hehehe... Perhaps that will teach certain people to not let the treat-jar become empty...
I think my greatest triumph in the urine-as-righteous-retribution department was on the last holiday that we were all together as a family, back in 2017. We had a holiday cottage in Wales. I had a lovely time with my cousin Doug and his family. On the last night, Mistress's brother had arranged a family dinner out at the local pub. As the time drew nearer, I carefully prepared my fur in a winning style and took care to ensure that my eyes and ears were clean. I was therefore most put out when Doug and I were taken out for a brisk walk "to do their business before we go out". Doug and I did our duty, though I didn't really understand why we were going out before we went out. I did soon afterwards though. Doug and I were ushered to our baskets in the kitchen and watched as everyone else went out. I was not impressed. I gave them fifteen minutes' grace to rethink their plans and return. After that, there was only one course of action to take...
I tried to get Doug to come with me, but he refused and even tried to persuade me not to go. I love Doug very much but he really a goody-goody. He flinches at the mere mention of cheekiness and, if I was a snippy type, I would say that he is too highly-strung for his own good. It's almost impossible to engage him in mischief. Every time I try, he either stares at me without understanding or runs off to tell tales on me. No-one to tell tales to this time, so I set off alone along the passage. I passed Mistress's and my room. I knew who the villain of this piece was. I pushed open the door of the bedroom allocated to Mistress's brother and his wife. There, on the floor, lay his suitcase. It was full, everybody having packed ready for an early-morning departure. My way was clear. I flipped the lid over, climbed in and deployed my golden liquid revenge. All over his neatly folded clothes. ALL over.
I was in a lot of trouble. Mistress's mother had to wash every item in the suitcase again and have it dried before departure. Mistress was joined as a partner in my disgrace. It was not a happy occasion.
I learned a few new words that day.
Stay safe, be nice to each other and keep smiling.
Lots of love from Gisèle x
These two look familiar.
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