#44: Too Clever For Their Own Good
A while back, Kevin and I decided to start rewarding our dogs with treats whenever they went outside to do their business. Honestly, I don't recall exactly what prompted us to start this routine. It might have been after we took in Kevin’s mom’s Boxer, who could no longer manage two dogs on her own. To help the Boxer learn that the appropriate place to relieve herself was outdoors, we figured that using treats as positive reinforcement would be effective.
Lately, however, we’ve found ourselves increasing the frequency of treat distribution, particularly in the evenings. Near the end of the day, we’ve started giving the girls some extra special treats that are reserved just for nighttime. With Quinley, our beloved fourteen-year-old dog, we feel an immense desire to spoil her a bit more as she ages; after all, she deserves every bit of love and indulgence we can offer.
The downside to this newfound ritual is that our dogs, being exceptionally clever, have quickly caught on to the game. Now, they’ve developed a habit of either standing by the door or even knocking on it, eager to go out—not necessarily because they need to relieve themselves, but because they associate the trip outdoors with those delicious goodies. And, of course, I can’t resist giving in to their pleading looks and adorable behavior. I’m such a pushover when it comes to their sweet faces!
Unfortunately, I’ve inadvertently established a pattern with my clever pup, Quinley. She has become quite adept at expressing her desire to go outside, often approaching the door and pawing at it even when she doesn’t actually need to relieve herself. This little ritual becomes an amusing yet somewhat frustrating game, as she diligently insists on repeating her request until I finally give in and let her outside. It’s both entertaining and exasperating to realize just how smart these dogs can be—they certainly know how to work the system to their advantage, proving that they’re often too clever for their own good—and mine!
However, I’ve discovered a way to disrupt this routine. When I retreat to our bedroom and settle in to watch TV, Quinley seems to understand that it’s time for her to unwind. She slowly steps into her cozy bed, curls up snugly, and drifts off to sleep. In fact, that’s what I’m doing at this moment, enjoying the peace while Quinley snoozes contentedly nearby. It’s a playful game of wits between us, and though I sometimes feel outsmarted, I can’t help but appreciate her intelligence.
On the bright side, I must admit that the bed is exceptionally comfy right now—a perfect spot to enjoy some downtime while I contemplate our little battle of brains.
See you tomorrow!