We try to warn people that the dog is just not that bright. And, invariably, people think we’re just being mean. Until they hang out with him a while. No, people, we’re just trying to give you fair warning.
This weekend, we had company and the Butcher made pork chops finished with an apple butter glaze (or glaze-ish thing anyway. We’re not fancy.) And at one point, he flung an apple butter glazed piece of pork at the dog and it hit him square in the head and left a large pile of apple butter on him, like a small, messy hat. He didn’t care. He was not fazed in the least by his baptism by apple butter.
Other people tried to just feed him pork, but he couldn’t figure out that, when pork drops to the ground, it’s then there on the ground where one might find it and eat it.
This morning, we saw a news story about a lab who’s been trained to sniff out electrical equipment, who found Subway Jarrod’s thumb drive of child porn (how’s that for a disgusting, strange sentence?). And we both looked over at our dog, clearly thinking that a man who can’t find the pork chop that had once been in your hand and was now on the ground is not finding a thumb drive.
Good thing he’s so sweet.
Tiny Cat Pants 