I’m not going to go so far as to call Puppy a smart dog, although he did once poop in the bathtub, so I guess he has his own brand of wit.
Who knows what makes a dog smart anyway. Was Lassie smart? Or just a busybody? I mean sure, those dogs in “Homeward Bound” were pretty philosophical, but that’s easy when you have a dubbed voiceover.* The way I see it though, there’s only two ways a dog can prove its intelligence: To learn how to get me a beer from the fridge, and to perform feats of adorableness when attractive women are around. Because that shows that a dog has sifted through life’s purpose and meaning and determined that there is nothing but solitude and inevitable death, and all that matters is alcohol and women. It shows intuition.
Puppy? He pooped in the bathtub.
But one thing I will credit him for is his uncanny chillness. This dog has moved from Los Angeles to Manhattan, to Brooklyn, to Manhattan, back to Brooklyn, and now to Miami – and every time his attitude is basically the same: Whatever. Maybe it’s because he has no idea we’re in a different place, except that the trees look a little different here, and he goes for a lot of rides in the car. But even when, through the most improbable of circumstances, we ran into our old neighbor from Brooklyn on the street here in
The one that that seems to have rattled him, though, is the fact that Brooke and I are home all the time now. Maybe he never really liked the fact that he was alone for eight hours a day, five days a week, but like the old saying goes: Be careful what you wish for. Suddenly, he can’t sleep for five minutes straight without someone brazenly WALKING TO THE KITCHEN and rousing him from his deep slumber, at which point he looks up slowly from his bed and glares towards the offender with a look like an old man on a park bench might give a bunch of teenagers skateboarding by. (I swear I once hard him say, “Ahem.”)
It’s gotten to the point where he’s started acting weird. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s simply the weight of his uncontrollably changing life, maybe it’s dealing with (channeling Daniel Day Lewis) these people. Whatever it is, Puppy is acting like a retard.
For example: Normally, Puppy is very good at fetch. Along with sleeping, it’s one of his strengths. But lately, it’s like playing fetch with an Alzheimer’s patient. Halfway through he stops and gets all distracted. Then he’s like, “Hey, my toy!” and picks it up and keeps right on playing. Observe.
(Also, way to bring the toy back TO THE CAMERA.)
But this video . . . this is the disturbing one. This sequence of actions goes on any number of times over the course of a day. Observe (and read the following narration while viewing).
“Well, that’s a nice wall. Has that always been there? It looks new. Nice and sturdy, too . . . Anywho, let’s see what’s going on at the rug. Why don’t I roll over on my back for a second? It always feels so good when I rub it on the carpet. Oh yeah, get the face right in there. Wait, what was I doing? Oh yeah, my face . . . uh oh . . . I think I’m stuck. I might be stuck. This could be trouble. How will I get to my food!? OK, not stuck. That was close. Hey! My crotch! Boy, I’m glad no one can see me. I could lick my crotch ALL DAY. What was that?! I heard something! Did my toy just say my name? I need to investigate. Nope, not the toy. Maybe the food dish? Hey, look, it’s my toy! I wonder if that wall’s still over there . . . When did Dan get here?”
Despite all that, I’m not worried. Puppy is a go-with-the-flow kind of dog. In fact, just last night he up and pooped in the fireplace. I have a feeling he’s going to settle in fine here.
* And just in case you were looking for the most disturbing video on the internet, I found it.