I have a bit a different relationship with my dogs.
In a previous relationship (ex girlfriend) she had a mix breed large dog. He was one of the smartest dogs I have ever met. He understood English, Tagalog, and Spanish I think (Tagalog being very similar). We never taught him how to do anything. He just listens, and does on his own. You could see the look on his face as we would have a conversation. He watched as we spoke. I think he was putting our words with our actions. He knew not to touch something that wasn’t given to him. Be it stuffed animals, doggie toys, or even food.
One evening in particular, I was having a snack. Cheese, salami, and crackers. Rocky (his name) loved cheese. It was his favorite. He would sit across the room from me and watch me eat. He never came up to mooch. You might say he had delveloped manners. I already knew he would touch the plate, even if I sat it on the floor. That amazed me. He had so much will power. But I was certain if I left it out when I went to bed, he could only resist so long. So I decided to test him and see just how long it would take.
I set up my web cam on my desktop pc so it was looking down at about a 60 degree angle at my plate with crackers, cheese and salami. I was intending to give it to them anyway. Them, there is a second dog. She was an American Bull dog. Her name was Punget. Tagalog for ugly. She was one of those so ugly she was cute. Always had one tooth out over her lip. It was her thing. I was pretty sure she would be the one to lick the plate clean, maybe 1 minute after I was out of the room.
Next morning, the plate looked untouched. I was amazed. I had set the webcam to record on motion, so the entire evenings recording was a total of 2 minutes long. Every few minutes Punget would walk up to the plate. Each step she took she would look over at Rocky. I think he was warning her, don’t touch, not yours. I swear he was communicating with her. Eventually she got up to the plate. She got her nose right up next to the food and was sniffing deeply. Her nose rubbed against some cheese. She stepped back and licked her nose eagerly. But never went after the food. She kept going back about every half hour to sniff the cheese again, and again. Not a single time did rocky venture near it until I came out into the room. When I come out, he ran right up to the plate wagging his tale. He knew he did good. And he got his reward.
Rocky is the same dog that carried me to the bathroom. I was passing my first kidney stone. The first is the worst, because you don’t know what’s going on, and you think you are dying. Oh my, was it bad. I was rolled up in a ball on the bedroom floor. I needed to get to the bathroom, but didn’t have the strength to even sit up on my own. I must have been there close to 12 hours. I really had to pee. No one was home for the weekend. Just me and the dogs. I called rocky, and there he was. I just spoke to him like he was a person. I told him I couldn’t get up, I was in pain, please help me into the bathroom. On queue he put his head under my arm and got me off the floor and to my knees. He pushed me into the bathroom. It took a few minutes for him to get me there, I wasn’t much help. But he did it. I did my business and passed that little Son of a bitch stone. It was 3mmx5mm oval shape, with jagged reappraisal sharp crystals coming out of it at different angles. It looked like it was designed to torture.