Kandy is one smart cookie, just like her brother Liam.
I was sitting on the couch, tossing toys down the hallway for Kandy to retrieve (yes, I somehow manage to exercise the dog without exercising myself…), when I casually stumbled upon a little game/canine I.Q. test. I took two toys — “the octopus” she’d brought from home and “the man” I’d purchased to keep at my place — to my bedroom down the hallway and left them next to each other in the middle of the floor. I scattered a few more toys near them. Then I returned to the living room and gave instructions.
“Kandy, go get the octopus!” Thundering Labrador footfalls down the hallway. A few seconds later, Kandy came trotting back up the hallway with the octopus in her mouth. But that could have been coincidence, right? And it’s her favorite toy anyway. Let’s see if she does it again.
“Kandy, go get the man! Where’s the man?”
She took the octopus back to my room. There was a far-off squeaking I recognized instantly.
My roommate looked at me. Are you KIDDING?
We couldn’t resist doing it repeatedly. Octopus! Man! Man! Octopus! Man man man! This is better than TV!
I don’t know how Kandy felt about it, but it kept us amused for a good twenty minutes. I threw in a “Kandy, go get half a gallon of Rocky Road at the market up the street,” but no dice. I think it’s just because she didn’t have a pocket for the change.
Anybody else feel that earthquake? I’m four floors up in a small office building in West L.A., and we had more than our fair share of rock & roll for a temblor that was centered in San Bernardino County.
So as I was sitting here at my sturdy wooden desk, wondering how long the shaking would continue and deciding whether or not to get underneath, I realized I had a dog with me — Kandy, the 8-month-old Labrador I’m puppysitting this week. Would she whine? Bark? Chew through my leg to get out from under the desk and bolt down the hallway?
Then came the gentle snoring. I don’t think she’s concerned.
Watched this dog for a quick overnight stay when he was a mere 12 weeks old, and was astounded at his grasp of the verbal command “No.” Seriously, he would gently sniff some unauthorized item, I would simply tell him “NO,” and he would never go near it again.
He is seven months old now. Liam, who perhaps should have been named Linus, enjoys dragging his blue baby blanket around the apartment, while wiggling and grunting and wagging his tail. He’s the happiest dog I’ve ever seen. Even at six in the morning, when he awakens me with gentle whining and the BANG-BANG-BANG of his tail against the wire kennel, it’s adorable.
And what excellent social skills! Liam wasn’t even embarrassed at church this morning when the pastor’s four-year-old son pointed to his furry private parts and enthusiastically announced to everyone that Liam is a boy.
Connor (giggling wildly): “HE HAS A PE–“
Jenny: “Pee! That’s right, time to take Liam out to pee! Connor’s a smart boy.”