Walter, while an awfully sweet dog, is one of the most ill mannered mutts I have ever known. He has absolutely no concept of appropriate behavior. He doesn't respect the other dogs' boundaries. He chews things he ought not to be chewing.
His foster parents really did him a disservice in not providing him some kind of basic training. I mean, I have never met a dog that did not instinctually understand "shoo." I have this image in my mind that his fosters just let him run crazy.
Or, perhaps he's just stupid?
The vet referred to him as a "clean slate." Suzanne maintains that it's rather like that Bill Murray movie Groundhog Day. Every day, we start over.
He's two years old, yet he has most of the bad habits of a puppy. Now to be fair, he is picking up some key commands such as "down" and "shoo."
This evening, I was serving up dinner. I had smoked a pork tenderloin yesterday. Tonight, I sauteed some onions, shredded some of the pork, and then mixed in some BBQ sauce for sandwiches (served on a toasted hoagie roll with fresh onions and pickles, YUM!).
The wooden spoon I'd used to serve up dinner was in my right hand as I reached over to place the plate on the counter. Suddenly, there was a sharp tug on the spoon.
The plate tipped, sending the sandwich spilling to the floor!
Walter gave up on the spoon and dove after his ill-gotten reward as the other three dogs darted in from the living room to join him in his feast.
"Cheese and crackers!" I cursed (*). "Walter!"
Wooden spoon in hand, I cracked the little bastard on the flank leaving a wet BBQ sauce stain on his hip. I imagine he was very popular with the other dogs after they were all tossed into the backyard.
The smack of the spoon against his backside sparked a vivid, painful set of memories from childhood.
Thanks, Walter. You've turned me into my grandma.
(*) I didn't really say "cheese and crackers," but in an effort to keep my PG-13 rating I thought I'd avoid the use here of the expression I actually employed.