Liz, over at ‘Finding Life Hard?‘ put up a post the other day about her dog George helping himself to half of a cake she was in the process of turning into a wonderful strawberries-and-cream confection for someone’s birthday. She was not happy with George, and she let him know it. George, apparently, was bemused.
Well, that reminded me of an incident with our very first dog, a greyhound called James.
We hadn’t had James very long, but he was already my very dear companion and I took him everywhere. We went for long walks in the countryside, of course, but he also came with me on any local errands if it was at all practical. Now, James was a very unusual greyhound, and was well used to being tied up outside because he’d been a Traveller’s dog before arriving at the Wood Green animal shelter. Anyway, I tell you this because it’s actually not recommended to tie greyhounds out at all. Even a pet greyhound can go from a standing start to around thirty miles an hour within three strides. Being sight-hounds, they don’t think if they see something to chase, they just go, and you can imagine the impact on a slender neck if they happen to be tied to something at the time. And for the same reason, it’s not recommended to use extending leads with greyhounds, either.
Anyway. One day I needed to pop out to the shops to buy something for dinner, so I picked up his lead, and James came too. We set off down the road, but because I didn’t have a lot of time, it was a no-sniffing-every-five-paces’ walk. We were on a mission.
I tied James up outside the butcher’s shop with the tall windows which go right down to dog level, and he watched me patiently as I bought some beef mince and came back out. He always found a place where he could watch me through a shop window, if he could. He was endearingly affectionate, and he loved me passionately, that dog.
Home again, I emptied the mince into a pan, and set it to brown, then popped upstairs for a minute.
As I came down, I could hear a strange clonking. I froze. There was no-one else in the house, so what the heck was that? I listened for a few seconds, but I couldn’t identify the noise. Oh well .. James wasn’t barking, so no-one must have broken in. I descended the last few stairs and followed the sounds.
There he was, in the kitchen, paws up on the front of the hob, nose inside my pan, eating the mince, as it cooked! How he didn’t burn his mouth I will never know.
When I yelled, he leapt down and stood a few feet away, eyes flicking from me to the pan, with an expression of ‘Uh-oh .. she’s pissed, but … what’d I do? And is she going to let me finish that?’
You see, looking back, this is probably what he was thinking:
Beloved Owner takes Dog for a walk. Â There is No Sniffing, so clearly there is a Mission.
Beloved Owner ties Dog up outside the Shop of Delightful Odours and goes inside.
Dog watches an exchange take place.
Beloved Owner comes out with Meat in a bag and carries it pretty damn near Dog’s nose all the way home.
Beloved Owner thoughtfully puts Meat to warm for Dog in slightly unusual Dog Bowl, but forgets to put it on low Dog Feeder. Oh well. Nobody’s perfect.
Dog fetches own food from high place.
Beloved Owner is unaccountably Pissed with Dog.
See? Simple when you look at it from the right perspective, isn’t it?
This may also explain the occasion when Dog stole a cup containing left-over gravy from the kitchen counter .. I almost certainly mentioned ‘James’ and ‘dinner’ when I put it there .. but it doesn’t fully explain his subsequent actions. You see, that cup was found at the end of the garden, licked clean, but with not a single drop spilled on the way.
I guess he just wanted to eat al fresco that day. Or maybe he wanted to bypass the whole ‘unaccountably pissed’ scene.
I am CRACKING up! I don’t know how James didn’t burn his poor puppy mouth either!
Hilarious. Enterprising aren’t they. It’s tradition here to buy a whole ham at Christmas and the leftovers feed the fam for a few days after. A neighbour had so much left over that they offerred me half the leg. I had it on the bench and cut a few slices for my Dad next door. when I came back, my sister’s dog had clearly been ‘coached’ by my old lab and knocked the remaining leg off the bench. Brenna, too old to jump up that high then thanked Poppy for her assistance and nicked the whole thing. All I saw was a fat black lab parading past the verandah with an entire ham in her mouth! No, didn’t let her eat it …damn it was a double smoked honey glazed as well!
That is funny! And I can certainly see his point of view! Our “big” dog is also certain that things are done a certain way with her in mind, and we’ve had quite a few rows about her jumping -on top!- of the table to finish off leftovers before the kids put their plates up. And every time I yell at her, she always gives me such a puzzled look like I’m the one out of my mind!
Ahahaha! Well, he WAS resourceful, wasn’t he? And neat.
You should give him points for that.
AWW how precious!! With cats and a dog around, someone is always getting something they aren’t supposed to.
We have one little black cat that got into the leftover Chinese food I had left sitting on the stove. He actually got the container open and ate the leftover spare ribs, bone and all. I’ve never ever seen a cat eat bones, but this one did. Then he decided to partner up with the dog and he would surf the food off the counter to Maizie who would only let him have a bite when she was done. Never a dull moment!
THanks for the mention and link. That’s hilarious! they are so resourceful.
I was in the kitchen just now, doing the dishes. I’d just put a cereal carton in my recycling box and I heard George nudging the lid open. I crept up behind him and shouted, ‘George!’ He jumped around and looked at me between his eyelashes for a moment and then wagged his tail as if to say, ‘You can’t be angry with me, can you, mummy?’
Of course I couldn’t.
But I’m going to invest in a water machine gun. You know, one of those powerful super-soakers! Then I’m going to set a honey-trap – is that what they call it? And prepare to teach him a lesson!
Meleah – I know!! But I checked, and he was fine. Just a bit mad at me for interrupting his meal!
Baino – Oh, my goodness! A whole, double-smoked, honey glazed ham? Yikes! That would be the equivalent of walking off with the Christmas turkey over here. Many a dog has been in trouble for that … what can you say? Alcohol = fuzzy thinking = opportunity for dogs and cats. ROFL!
Don’t tell me. You weren’t drinking. But people usually are!
JT – Haha! Well, she probably thought the leftovers were hers! They just don’t think like us, do they?
Maureen – I did give him ten out of ten for neatness, but he didn’t bring the cup back.
Heather – I had a cat that would eat bones, once. A half-siamese black. She was a fearsome hunter too. Was the little guy OK?
Doesn’t sound like a great deal with the teamwork though, does it? LOL!
Liz – Thanks for the idea!
They certainly are resourceful – I can just see George trying to sneak into the recycling bin for the cereal packet! Yes, a water gun can be useful. Another trick is to put double sided tape along the edge of the work surface – they don’t like it on their feet (at least greyhounds don’t). Or string a lot of empty coke tins together with cotton and line them up in front of something tasty. When they all come down, Mr Dog will scarper – and you won’t be anywhere close, so it will seem like Nemesis! LOL!
Brilliant! At least Paddy doesn’t ever attempt to take food – he is very well behaved in that respect. If it was a squirrel or a cat left lying around, of course, that would be different.
I won’t leave the kitchen if anything’s on the stove ’cause I’m SURE my cats will try to eat whatever it is… and probably set themselves on fire at the same time! (Gas burners…)
can you email me you greyhound family NOW – Did you get SID??