Doggie intelligence

Did I ever tell you about the time my humans failed the doggie intelligence test?

It’s a good story. It happened a long time ago, back when I was still a youngster and we lived in the old place. You know, the place that looked like this:

Except when it looked like this:

Or this:

Number 1 was always very proud of me and telling everybody that I was the smartest little puppy in the world. Her friend and fellow dog lover, who had three big clumsy white dogs (you can see one of them in this story), invited us over to take a doggie intelligence test.

So here are some of the things they have you do on a doggie intelligence test. They show you a treat and put it under a cup. Then you are supposed to get it out from under the cup. That was easy. I went over to the cup and did the “papillon wave,” where I reared up and waved my front paws vigorously in the air. The humans laughed, but it works every time. Out came the treat. “He asked for help!” they said. I passed!

Then there was the blankie test, where they put a blankie or towel over you and see if you can get out from underneath it. The white dogs, I’m sorry to say, failed this one miserably. You throw the blanket over them, and they say, “Who turned out the lights?” You should have seen them wandering around bumping into stuff. Their brains are almost as small as Klingons, and that’s really saying something.

I, on the other hand moved with such lightning-fast swiftness that they couldn’t even get the blankie on top of me! Woo hoo! I passed! Now can I get another treat?

Well, you get the idea. Ten tests passed with flying colors, ten treats. Oh, and did I tell you what the treats were?

Dog heaven

This was a big-dog house, so I got big-dog treats. I had never eaten those before in my life! Yummmy! More! More!

Now we get to the part where my humans failed the test. Number 1 was thrilled out of her mind, of course, because it had just been proven that I was the smartest little dog in the world. But you see, there was just one problem. A small dog’s stomach only has so much room in it, and when you stuff ten pieces of yummy big-dog treats in there …

Well, let’s just say that they came back out again. It wasn’t my fault. Towels were fetched. Apologies were made. And the smartest little dog on the planet went back home with two mortified humans.

By the way, just for fun, here’s a link to another dog who took the intelligence test and didn’t do quite as well as I did … LOL! Enjoy!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: July 2nd, 2011

They’ve taken leave of their senses

The humans have gone off the deep end. Last night they lined me up and subjected me to the following spectacle.

Not knowing what to make of this behavior, I figured it was best to play along, so I stood up on my hind legs and pawed the air, in the maneuver known as “the papillon wave.”

This episode was followed by tasty treats, which enabled me to get over the shock.

Jazz hands. Really?

Woofs,
Willie

[No. 2 here. For those of you who are wondering, "What is that song?", I'll explain. I'm a folk music fan and dulcimer player, so one of my favorite musicians is John McCutcheon, a dulcimist extraordinaire. At almost every concert, John used to (and probably still does) sing this song, called "Cut the Cake." As John explains it, he wrote it to save the world from the Birthday Dirge, that ghastly song that most of us are subjected to on our birthdays. It's peppy and happy and up-tempo, the way a happy-birthday song should be.]

Edited: September 14th, 2009

Our walks after dinner

When it’s warm outside, we go for a walk after dinner. The whole pack goes… me, the humans, and all three of the Klingons. The way we do it is, one of the humans says “Walk!” and we all get ready.

Did you say walk? Now? It's time?

I get my leash on and we all gather in the side yard. Then we go up the road a little ways and turn left. The Klingons are slow, so we have to wait until they all catch up. Then we go down a hill. We stop and look out across a field to an old house where nobody has lived for a long time.

No. 1 says this is her favorite view of all.

Then the funnest part. We go into the woods! There’s a little path there and we all walk through. I stay on the path but the Klingons take the high roads.

At the end of the path we come out behind a house where there’s never anybody there, and my bestest Klingon goes and rolls and flips in a patch of dust. I really don’t know why she enjoys this but I guess it takes all kinds.

Then it’s a race to the finish. No. 2 goes out ahead and calls the race as the Klingons head toward home. I must say that they do not understand the concept of a race, because they go in fits and starts, and they stop to look behind them all the time.

One time on the way home I walked through a patch of weeds, and they grabbed me! I was stuck! Couldn’t move forward, couldn’t move backward. The humans rescued me from these grabby plants and carried me home. “What a mess!” I heard. They took a long time to pick a whole bunch of little bitty green sticky things out of my coat. I heard No. 1 exclaim, “213!” That was not that much fun.

Woofs,
Willie

[No. 1 here... the "house where where there's never anybody there" is a non-residential frat house down the street from us in Gambier, Ohio, a tiny academic town in central Ohio, home to Kenyon College.

No. 2 and I cherished our walks with Willie and the cats. The neighbors always marveled to see three cats walking with us. In fact, they were known as "The Famous Gambier Walking Cats."]

Edited: September 4th, 2009

Marginalized!

Now that the Klingons are over being fazed by me whatsoever, I find myself being ooched off of laps.

It starts out innocently enough.

Little by little, they advance on my position, sometimes even making so bold as to lie right on top of me.

Hey, I was here first!

This is really very thick. It’s obvious they have no respect for a dog’s personal space, or for the fact that possession is 9/10 of the law.

Really?

It always ends the same way. They move in inch by inch, until it’s too much and I give up the lap. I just can’t cuddle up to a Klingon.

The bed I can share. There's more room, and legs.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 29th, 2009

Chipmunks are fun for all

Now it looks like this outside our house.

Green is better than white.

It’s warm instead of brrr! and I can run! Run like the wind! I can run just as fast as No. 2.

The Klingons have a little door just for them. They go in and out and in and out. Nowadays, a lot of times when they come back in they bring a friend with them. Chipmunks are the best.

He's inside and we're outside? That's just wrong.

I'm full of Little Friskies right now or else you'd be toast.

Chipmunks run really fast too. They are so fun to chase and if I catch one I bite its tail with my teethies. No. 1 tries to catch them but they get away and run up the curtains or hide under the kitchen cabinets. She tries to lure them out with Cheerios. Usually what happens is, when a chipmunk has been in the house for a few days it really slows down. Then No. 1 is able to put on her thick gloves and catch them and put them back outside. There goes the entertainment.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 27th, 2009

I’m a Canine Good Citizen

Besides all the ways that I’ve learned from No. 1 of how to earn treats at home, she took me to a place where there were lots of other dogs and we all had to do the same things over and over again. It wasn’t that much fun. Particularly when we moved outside and they expected me to do a “down” on the GRASS. What? Put my belly down on that prickly, tickly stuff? Ew. I’m a much more civilized dog than that, thank you very much.

After we’d been doing that for a few times, we went to yet another place outdoors. There were tons of other dogs. Here are some of them.

No. 1 says this is a Brittany and a Boston.

A nice boxer.

Um... don't know, but he's big and on the table.

The lineup.

No. 1 and I did a lot of different things while another human watched us and wrote things down. I had to sit, stay, come, walk nicely on my leash, get petted by a stranger, stay behind a barn without howling, and all kinds of things like that.

See how nice I pay attention?

Finally it was over, and I got to go back to the car with No. 2. Soon No 1 came back all excited, waving a paper in the air.

This is what all the excitement was about.

Of course I’m a Canine Good Citizen! My breeder mom and my human pack raised me right!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 24th, 2009

Détente with Klingons

The Klingons are warming up to me. I think. The hissy one chases me around now, and we have conversations. She uses that same voice that they use when they talk to the birdies in the back yard. When she blocks my way I bark at her and she goes eh eh eh eh eh at me.

She's No. 2's favorite Klingon. Go figure.

One time she cornered me in a small place. I bravely stood my ground. She reached out with her paw to swat me — then changed her mind and touched noses instead!

The friendly one is now my bestest Klingon.

We hang out.

The white one makes the best stank face, but she doesn’t seem to care much about me one way or the other. I’m just as glad about that.

Just a little disagreement.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 22nd, 2009

My fringes are here!

The humans kept talking about “that awkward gangly stage.” I don’t know what that meant, but apparently I’m over it now. My ear fringes have grown out!

A papillon’s pride and joy are his fringes. We’re named for butterflies, you know, and our ears look like big fluffy wings.

They’ve also stopped referring to a “pipe cleaner” when talking about my tail. Now it’s long and fluffy too, and swishes all over the place when I wag it.

No. 1 has been teaching me things. I know lots of words and what I’m supposed to do when the humans say them. Each word also has a signal, and I know those too! Let me tell you, this is a great way to get treats. The way we do it is, the humans say the word or make the signal, I do the thing, and I get a treat! What a racket.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 21st, 2009