Friday, September 10, 2010

Our Wonderous Pug

We have never, not in many years, ever assumed Frank to be particularly intelligent.  Cute?  Sure.  Cuddly?  Certainly.  A good napping partner?  Most definitely.  But never intelligent.  Unless, of course, you could find a way to motivate him with food.  With the promise of a snausage, Frank would move mountains!

So I set the stage for what occurred last night.  I got home late from Fairfax, and Becky and the boys had already eaten.  Good family that they are, they left a plate out for me, and I was happy to nuke it and eat my supper at seven o'clock, an hour later than usual.  However, in the upset of the normal routine, we forgot to feed our pug his dinner!

After eating, Becky went to choir practice, and the boys got to watching Top Gear on TV.  I started noodling around on the computer (which can consume hours in my day).  And so Frank waited... and waited... and waited.

Finally, at eight o'clock, I sent the boys upstairs to get ready for bed.

"Pajamas, teeth and stories!" I barked.  And off they ran up the stairs.

A few moments later, I heard one very clear and distinct note from the piano.   BONG!

"Dammit!" I thought, "those boys are fooling around again and not getting ready for bed!  (Pretty common in our house.)

I marched into the living room, expecting to raise some hell, and there was my pug, sitting on the piano bench.  And he was looking at me, and then his bowl, and me again, and then his bowl.  As clearly as if he spoke the words with his own mouth, he was saying to me, "Yo!  You forgot to feed me, dummy!"

Taking the hint, I quickly took him outside to potty (for he must potty before dinner), and then it was dinner.  Oh, yes, yummy chicken, lamb and rice.

Mr. Beethoven had been fed! 

What an intelligent pug!

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