Ok, I've got a couple on this subject. My family has 3 Boston Terriers, my guy, Dante, is the youngest. Since I got him he's been extremely well trained to not 'go' in the house. As a pup it made me nervous 'cause when he would have an accident he'd hide and cower down like he was afraid for his life (it had me thinking he might have been beaten as a newborn).

So after about 3 months in my new apartment, one morning he jumps up in my bed with a tennis ball. He's very excited and persistent, but, I've only had about 4 hours of sleep thus far. I dismiss him and quickly enough, there's another toy dropped on my pillow. This goes on for like 20 minutes, I'm trying to ignore him, he's not getting the point. Finally he abruptly leaves me alone...and that's enough incentive for me to investigate. I force myself awake, and see my bed is covered with about 15 dog toys, one of my shoes, and his harness and leash. Then I hear the sound of lightly trickling water...

So of course I'm up like a shot and hurrying to find my other shoe so I can take him out, again, afraid he'd think he was in trouble for my laziness. I finally find it in the bathroom, along with Dante, who has jumped in the bathtub to pee. The look oh his face was so funny I'll never forget it...not a look of fear, but more along the lines of contempt. I'll never ignore him again.



A few months pass, and I'm getting ready to go to work. I start to collect my things and motion for him to get into the kitchen (he's confined with one of those child gates, not for incontinence, but for the fun he has running up and down the hall with the toilet paper streaming off the roll behind him). Of course, he hates it 'cause he's got his spot in the sun on the back of my loveseat all cozy. I insist, and he obliges, reluctantly.

So I'm off to work, get about 4 blocks away and realize I'd forgotten to transfer something off my hard drive. I go back to get it, now in a hurry, I jump out of my truck, run to the door, fuss with the lock a little bit, and rush into my apartment...just in time to see that little brat jumping back over the child gate into the kitchen, where he promptly lies back down on his bed and looks at me like nothing happened.

I can only speculate, but my guess is that since I was in a hurry, I didn't lock my truck (which sounds an alarm). Without hearing that horn, which he hears every day moments before I walk in the door, he didn't have time to return to his proper spot in the kitchen. And the little bastard had probably done this exact routine every day for months.


I'm sure there'll be many more in the future. I've learned to watch him closer, and not take anything for granted.