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What your pet thinks about you

Published: 
Sunday, January 1, 2012

Have you ever seen a device or a programme designed to correct your pet’s behaviour problem that explained how smart they are and how they think? Most plans or gadgets enable owners, literally, to declare war on their hapless pets. Little or no concern is afforded to what the the animal happens to think about them. In fact, the implication is that they don’t think at all... either they just react to external stimuli like robots, or respond according to genetically controlled “drives.” Dogs and cats are rarely credited with the ability to solve a problem mentally; to analyse a situation; imagine ways to manipulate or control it, then take a pre-planned course of action toward a goal that was preconceived in the it’s mind. Animals are smart. They can, and usually do, think rings around their owners. And they can do it because most owners have never learned how to think like an animal.

The Dog’s Diary
8 am—dog food!
8.30 am—Outside to urinate on the gate to mark my territory!
9 am—Ran into the road as soon as the gate opened! My favourite thing!
9.05 am—The people chased after me—fun game!
9.30 am—A car ride! My favourite thing!
9.40 am—A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
9.50 am—Barked at the birds and chased after people on bicycles!
10.30 am—Home for a nap! My favourite thing!  
11 am—Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12 pm—Milk bones!
1 pm—Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
1.30 pm—Rolled in the mud! My favourite thing!
2.30 pm—Chased the cat! My favourite thing!
3 pm—Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
4.30 pm—Jumped on the people when they came home!
4.35 pm—Got the people to “bark” back at me for dirtying their clothes!
5 pm—Dinner! My favourite thing!
7 pm—Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8 pm—Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
9 pm—Belly rubs! My favourite thing!
11 pm—Sleeping on the bed!

The cat’s dilemma
Day 983 of my captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. Some have feathers they have ripped from an unwitting bird. Some are shaped like the fish that swim around in some sort of glass bowl…which I am denied access to, of course. I do not understand this form of torture. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. A plain and unvarying diet. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet but they start to go on and on about hairballs and force-feed me some nasty-tasting liquid to “help” my digestion, apparently. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities.

However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am and thanked me for bringing home a “gift”. Fools! There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage. Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...


(www.goodeatsfanpage.com/humor)

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