My dog has been taught to scratch the door when he wants out and to move his paw forward when we say shake. This many things involving this motion has made him too powerful. When he wants something he will now tap us with his paw. He will go around the room tapping everything in case it will get him what he wants. During Christmas we had a snowman decoration he would hit and then look at us. Like a cat knocking over a glass for attention. A week ago he almost knocked my mom's laptop off her lap cause he wanted pets. This dog is unstoppable now he has learned to hit
*deep breath*
This is. everything. It fills my heart with an intense, abiding love, I’ve been carrying it with me for weeks and I’m finally ready to share this. Dear Anon, I love your dog and I love you for telling me about him.
I love dogs, and I love dogs like yours who have discovered the power of Transferable Skills, but most of all, I love how much your dog is like Dear Sweet Bella Moosh, a much beloved dog my family lost to horrible cancer four years ago. I tell this story now not to sadden anyone, but to embrace her memory and celebrate it.
Bellbell came to us at the beginning of 2008, a few months after we had lost a different much beloved family dog, and though she was a fully grown two years old, she was gangly as a baby deer (and about the same height as one tbh) and unacquainted with stairs, of which there were many in our house. She fell up the stairs upon her arrival into our home, and in that moment we mentally slotted her into the position of Sweet Tempered, But She Ain’t That Bright, Is She?
We had, up until that point, been accustomed to the presence of Fun-Sized Unruly Canine Genius, and here was this big ungainly red dog on stilts, seemingly getting trapped in different rooms just because the door wasn’t fully open, or on the landing between upstairs and down when she forgot how to negotiate stairs. We did not expect a great intellect, so we set the bar low with training and got the tastiest treats as motivation. Bellbell knew Sit, and she knew Lay Down, so we decided to teach her to high five with the command “Paw.”
Bellbell had Paw down in twenty minutes, and in the process we discovered she was an ultra-dominant leftie. We made Other Paw a stretch goal and she had that inside of a day. Then, she began to initiate Paw without prompting, which at first charmed us.
Of course we continued to give her treats, we thought it was sweet how she chose to interact with us: she first would indicate she needed attention by politely setting her foot on her chosen Paw-ee’s knee or hand first, to indicate she would like to high five now, please. However. If the Paw-ee was too distracted to acknowledge her warning tap, or napping, or otherwise unprepared to intercept her giving of the high five, her follow up could and did manifest as punching us in the face.
Multiple pairs of glasses fell as casualties to her enthusiasm. Also cups of coffee. Shirt collars. Necklaces. Newspapers. A laptop and an iPhone. But we let it go, because alas, we knew her to be Simple. And then my mother bought a puppy. And we learned Bellbell was Not Simple at all.
We learned she knew far more words and commands than she had previously ever let on. We watched her teach the baby dog how to do stairs by the clearest, most patient pantomime, and it is my life’s single greatest regret not to have video of that lesson. But most crucially, she gifted the knowledge of Paw to our monstrous baby dog, and from that day our lives never knew peace. No partially closed door could contain them, no wooden blinds could conceal the outdoors from their view, no plastic grocery bag carried in from the car by human hands was safe from inspection, any and all perishable goods would be investigated by Bellbell or Monster.
Over the course of her remaining seven years, Bellbell imparted Paw to five other dogs. Her pupils on the whole were less leggy than she, so there was significantly less in the way of accidental pugilism with their unsolicited high fives. I never thought I would miss being smacked in the eye, then deftly herded to the kitchen cabinet, and yet.
And then.
Here you come, speaking of your dog and his exuberant tapping, patting, pawing, and it makes me feel like there’s something of Bellbell’s spirit living on, still. Her legacy of sly, slapstick trickery continues, nearly half a decade on, and though I know neither you nor your dog, I have carried that small joy with me since learning of him. Please give him a treat for me, with my thanks.
