Stella

Stella is the most beautiful chocolate lab in the world.  She is 4.5 yrs old, and we've had her since she was 5 months old.  She is too smart.  Although I don't have the time to really work with her, she has "sat" on command since day one, comes when called, jumps to my side when I cry, to lick my tears, comes running when someone sneezes to make sure they are ok, knows word meanings for "car", "ride", "cookie", "bone", "woobie" (that's one of her toys), "David", "breakfast", "supper", "hungry".... notice the food theme?  Stella is also a little jealous of  Keebler, our 9 year old Lab.  Pet Kebbler, and Stella is right there, nosing in front of Keebs.  Call Keebler, and Stella is there first.  Keebler is strong- both physically and stubbornly.  I can not take both dogs out on the leashes together as together they are like a team of oxen.  So the usual is for me take Stella out to do her 'business', then Keebler.  Today, Keebler was at the door first, so I hooked up the lead and out we went.  She knows "bone", too, and when I said let's go get one, she ran for the house.  There, I hooked Stella up, took her out for her 'business', and came back in.  Both dogs went to the cupboard where the rawhide bones are kept.  Stella's ritual is to sniff them both several times, then make her choice.  Keebs always gets the 'leftover'.  Today, Stella didn't take one, so Keebler nosed in and got first choice.    I was thinking "what's up with Stella", as she is so food motivated, nothing could keep her from a bone.   Then I spotted it under the dining room table.  The plastic container hamburg comes in.  The one that was on the back of the counter, way back, thawing for tonights' spaghetti sauce.  "Hmmmmm....".  And there was no hamburger.  Anywhere.  One pound, gone- and Stella sat there looking so innocent.     I have ignored her for the last half hour.  I couldn't yell at her or punish her- she'd have no idea why.  But I was angry.  Stella hates being ignored.  She is devastated if her love isn't given freely, and returned.  So after following my every move, rubbing against my leg, and sighing, to no avail, she sat in front of me, her head down but her eyes up to me and I swear I saw tears.  Damn that dog.  I had to hug her!  Now she's smiling, walking around the house with her woobie, and feeling fine.  I, on the other hand, have to figure out something else for dinner.