Sheila, our 8 year old 99% Australian Shepherd, sits in the living room with her eyes fixed on me; however, her ears are at high attention, monitoring every sound that comes from the kitchen. She is calculating the probability of getting a treat. I can practically hear the numbers crunching through her head...I can see the stat's running with every twitch of her ears and every roll of her eyes.
She whines. You can see her dilemna: I'm sitting on the couch, eating yogurt, while DH is in the kitchen fixing a snack of his own. Our three other dogs, who never get tidbits from me while I'm on the couch and who therefore know that I'm a lost cause, are busy tracking DH's every move. Sheila, on the other hand, does occasionally get to lick my yogurt bowl clean, under very special circumstances...when no other dogs are around, and when I'm feeling particularly soft-hearted. Because she is my special girl, and I like her to know that.
But I'm not a sure thing, and she knows that, too. Likewise, she knows that DH is a sure thing. Has that man ever left the kitchen without first dispensing treats to each dog? I think not. If that were to happen, we'd probably have a riot on our hands. He's a given, a 100% sure score, so Sheila isn't just calculating the probability of getting a single treat--she's figuring whether or not she can end up with treats from both me and DH. If she can just hold out long enough, she knows I'm liable to crack.
Her eyes are open so wide that I can see white all around her irises...that's a rather intense look for a dog. It makes me laugh. It makes me love her all the more. I lower the bowl to snout level, and she makes very short work of it before dashing into the kitchen.
I swear, if she could play craps like she plays me, this dog could take it to Vegas.
She whines. You can see her dilemna: I'm sitting on the couch, eating yogurt, while DH is in the kitchen fixing a snack of his own. Our three other dogs, who never get tidbits from me while I'm on the couch and who therefore know that I'm a lost cause, are busy tracking DH's every move. Sheila, on the other hand, does occasionally get to lick my yogurt bowl clean, under very special circumstances...when no other dogs are around, and when I'm feeling particularly soft-hearted. Because she is my special girl, and I like her to know that.
But I'm not a sure thing, and she knows that, too. Likewise, she knows that DH is a sure thing. Has that man ever left the kitchen without first dispensing treats to each dog? I think not. If that were to happen, we'd probably have a riot on our hands. He's a given, a 100% sure score, so Sheila isn't just calculating the probability of getting a single treat--she's figuring whether or not she can end up with treats from both me and DH. If she can just hold out long enough, she knows I'm liable to crack.
Her eyes are open so wide that I can see white all around her irises...that's a rather intense look for a dog. It makes me laugh. It makes me love her all the more. I lower the bowl to snout level, and she makes very short work of it before dashing into the kitchen.
I swear, if she could play craps like she plays me, this dog could take it to Vegas.
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