Some people - most people, actually - say she's not very smart. "Oh," they'll comment, their lips twisting into a sympathetic smile, "she's just not very bright, is she?" Then they'll shake their head and offer Chris and I their silent condolences as they tsk, tsk, tsk their way down the street.
Little do these people know - I doubt they can even understand - that our dog is a genius. A genius. I swear.
Molly knows commands. She can sit, shake, and lay down. She understands words: food, cookie, treat, dinner, hungry, breakfast, time-for-bed, puppy-outside, up, down, walk, outside, car-ride, where's-your-toy... When she hears "let's go" she perks up, runs to the door, and dances in the foyer. She knows to sit before a treat, and to "lay down and stay" before she gets her dinner.
Oh, yes. Our baby IS A GENIUS.
And the thing that makes her a genius has nothing to do with any of those previously mentioned commands. Any dog can sit when told. Or lay down. Or stay. Or get a beer from the fridge for an owner who's too lazy to get one himself.
The thing that makes Molly the Albert Einstein of dogs is that she recognizes her free will. She understands that she has a mind of her own and can - gasp - use it however she likes. And whenever she likes.
Some days, when I ask her to do something, she'll do it immediately. Is that the best you can come up with? she'll seem to say. Then she'll wag her tail, trot over to the cupboard, and wait (impatiently) for a cookie.
But then there are the days - most days, it seems - where she'll purposely ignore my request for a shake, sit, or down. She'll look at me, study me, cock her head, and let me know in no uncertain terms that she's not in the mood to be anybody's puppet. After several attempts of me practically begging her to perform her latest and greatest trick, she'll yawn, stretch, give a smug snort, and walk away - leaving me to defend not only her but Chris and myself, and our seemingly pathetic attempt at dog obedience.
We're really not bad pet owners. But Molly isn't an ordinary pet. She's a bit, um, special.
Most dogs seem to say, "What can I do to please you? How can I help? Huh, huh, huh?"
But with Molly, it's more often than not, "What can you do to please ME?"
Ah well. We still love her.
Molly's favorite thing to do - bask in the sun.
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"I like them all — pointers, setters, retrievers, spaniels — what have you. I've had good ones and bad of several kinds. Most of the bad ones were my fault and most of the good ones would have been good under any circumstances."
-- Gene Hill
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