|Mommy, don't you love me anymore?|
He is also the dumbest.
Montel is a simple pup. He likes four things: sleeping, eating, playing, and being with me. That is all. It's a good life and he is happy. Except when he cannot be with me or when he cannot be playing with me. Then he is not happy. In fact, he is pouty.
Today, for the first time this week, I was able to take Monty outside for a good long walk. Earlier this week I was working, then I was sick, then it was so windy in our city that chunks from our largest buildings kept falling off. Today, I gathered Monty, threw on my Shape-Up shoes, and went for a walk.
It was lovely outside. I had a light jacket on over a tank top and I was nicely warmed. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, children were playing. I usually walk Monty while throwing the ball for the first little while -- it gives him a chance to run crazy and I don't have to fight with him. Also, he seems to listen better off leash than he does on.
We played ball until we came to the area where there are numerous dogs and traffic. I threw on his leash and we walked the rest of the way to the park. I let him off leash and threw the ball.
Right towards him. Right over his head.
He couldn't find it. He searched and turned circles and sniffed. It lay 10 feet from him and he couldn't find it. I walked over to where it lay and then Monty came over and grabbed it at a dead run. He was so proud when he brought it back to me and dropped it at my feet. Like he found it all on his own.
So, I threw it again. Just left of him. He saw it go. He watched it land. He raced over to it.
And completely went right passed it.
It seems that if the ball goes where he is not expecting it (even by a foot) he cannot find it. He's not blind! I can throw a piece of food at him and he can usually find it. But there is something about this poor dog that is lacking. Like five cans in a six pack, he's just not all there.
Sometimes, I will take his treats and hide them around the living room. I make sure he's watching when I hide them. He sits and watches while I tuck them into his blanket, under a pillow, at the edge of the coffee table. Then I tell him to go find them.
He has no idea where they are.
I have to give him hints. Lead him to the couch and ask "Where's your treat?" He sniffs and searches. He cannot figure it out. Finally, he will stumble across one accidentally and be very proud of himself. After a lot of coaxing on my part, he can usually find them all. And then he wants to play again.
Seriously, he's a nice boy, but he's as dumb as a stick.