The Modern Language of the American Canine

There are a few words you don't say in our home unless you want the undivided attention of our dogs. And sometimes even the cat.

One is the word "treat." Or anything that sounds like treat. One day I was discussing the tree in the front yard with Hubby and noticed that Nipper seemed to be listening and nodding in agreement. We realized, of course that she had heard what sounded like her favorite word. If you say this word in the vicinity of the cat, she immediately stands up, meows, and heads for the end table (which is where hers in particular are kept).

Another one is "can of food." Nipper learned this one before she was changed over to dry food and it still holds fond memories for her even though she really only cares for one or two varieties of can food. I guess its the whole Pavlov thing.

"Bone" is a recent addition. They get one after their baths. And they wait patiently, nose stuck to cabinet door, until one is produced for their labor of getting wet and taking on the disgusting smell of soap. A close second to that is "chew sticks." I made the mistake of mentioning Massachusetts to the Dude one day and found that Rocky's attention was riveted. I'll be honest and admit that we had fun with that one for about a week.

Now, though, we have a new one. I've mentioned before the troubles we had with Rocky in the crate when we're gone. The vet suggested that we get a treat toy (the kind you fill with something to keep them occupied digging it out) with peanut butter and freeze it to keep him distracted and happy in the crate. So we did. It worked (for the most part). So well, in fact, that he will now walk into his crate on his own. So he knows the word "peanut butter." When you mention the word or he sees the treat toy, he starts licking his lips unconsciously -- which is really funny to see.

But despite my claims to the contrary, he's a pretty smart cookie when he wants to be. Last night, Hubby got out the peanut butter and crackers for a snack. As soon as he opened the jar, Rocky bolted from the back bedroom and planted himself on the couch at Hubby's hip. Apparently, he has learned the sound of the JAR OPENING. Oh. My. Word.

I guess its a good thing he isn't into flour or milk or butter. If he was, I guess all that running back and forth would make him a little thinner. Right now, the peanut butter combined with a MinPin's tendency to overeat have made him look like a Tootsie Roll with legs.