About a week ago, I was lying around being lazy.
Before we go to bed, we switch the animals: Wuz comes in and spends the night indoors, Delilah goes out and sleeps in the yard. They both hate it, they would much rather we didn’t, but those are the rules. Because someone might run away during the night and someone else still pees on the carpet occasionally.
Anyway, back to my laziness: it was my job to wrangle the animals and it sucks, because you have to catch Wuz while Delilah gets in the way and there’s barking and hissing and generally it’s a royal pain in the arse. I wasn’t looking forward to it.
As a joke, I turned to Delilah and said, “Hey Lilah, where’s Wuzzy?”
Her ears pricked, her body stiffened, we laughed.
Turns out the joke was on us: Delilah stood up, ran outside and herded Wuz in.
Maybe this is just a hilarious coincidence, we thought!
No, she now does it most nights.
She gets it: “Where’s Wuzzy” means “Go get the fluffy thing that hates you and bring her here”.
She now understands three things. The other two are:
“Walkies?” which makes her run to the bucket by the front door where her leash is.
“ATTACK!” which means, jump on the bed and run all over Julia until she gets out of bed. Only B uses this command, Monday to Friday.
Unfortunately she no longer comes when called.
In fact, on last night’s walk, she was off in the distance doing something and refused to come, so I had to go and drag her away from what turned out to be an abandoned pile of once hot chips. She was scarfing them down. We walked on for about 20 metres, when she looked at us, grinned and ran as fast as her chubby butt would let her and ate the rest.
Treat motivated, her breeder told us.
I guess so.