New Tricks
I just assumed that it was true. That you cannot teach an old dog new tricks.
I’ve been dog and cat sitting for my sister. She’s selling her house and is presenting it as "pet-free" to improve her chances, and the pets are with me. This entry is about Buster, the 12-year-old Bassett hound. The cat, Cosmo, only has 3 legs and something less than 9 lives left… he’s a whole story unto himself. Buster is the subject today.
Buster and I have struck mutual friendship of the last couple of months. I have a lot of time on my hands, and Buster has been primary benefactor. He’s brushed regularly; he is carried up and down stairs (too steep for old Bassett legs), walks, treats, and most importantly, he’s well loved.
Buster is not only a “good” dog; he’s a “smart” dog. Pavlov would have loved to have such a quick study. I’ve had to consider this every time I give Buster a new privilege. If I let him sleep in the bed two nights in a row, he expects that every night, and he’ll “talk” until you assist him, and his Basset legs, up on the bed.
The lower-right quadrant of my comfort is covered in dog hair. It’s time to get tough.
Anyway, I thought I’d take Buster’s smarts, and teach him to play dead. It only took 15 minutes, two dog biscuits, and lot of yelling as well as praise. Now, when I say “BANG,” and point my finger, Buster lies down, rolls on his back and waits to hear how he’s been a “good boy.”
