I’ll start.
My then gf and I had a chihuahua that just happened to be the most tiny and most diva and most clever little dog I’ve ever met. Tiny, incredibly cute, extreme ego and confidence, a terrible piercing bark and had some wild mood swings on top. He’d go from cuddly to nuclear warfare in a second of something displeased him. He was the eldest and the leader of his little pack and he kept all of them wrapped right around his paw running a little dogmatic terror state. But he took his responsibilities seriously and was always up in front if there was a threat to them. Be it an angry German shepherd or a double parked electric scooter. Nobody messed with his pack - except for him, obviously.
Our little beast was very well aware of his cuteness, and his craving for adoration knew no end. He’d be walking down the street next to me, obviously refusing to yield for anyone, and as we pass some café tables, he’d throw himself flat on the ground, legs pointing in all directions. We called it that he did a doormat. The intent was to throw us under the bus as his keepers so that he’d maximize the aahs and oohs and attention went compliments from the people sitting in the café.
But this is just the backstory. He was vain, and we knew he was clever, but also of this is still learned behaviour with a previously verified outcome.
No, what really set it apart was that one time we were at home, the entire couch occupied by humans, dogs, and generally not him in particular. He was strutting around, being grumpy that others had taken his rightful seat, and nobody would disappear into nothingness for his approval. Not an uncommon thing, but he has plenty of other comfy spaces to be, communal and his very own. We know if we lift him up now, he’ll try force some other dog down just because he wants space for himself, and we weren’t having it. The other dogs were there first today and it’s their right as much, so tough luck bud.
After some time, I notice him staring into the lights off bedroom. He looks at me, turns back to the bedroom and just keeps staring at it. I tell my gf that he is staring into the void and it seems to be staring back at him. We watch him as he keeps staring at nothing.
By now he is an old dog and has already shown signs of deterioration. I ask him what’s up and he shows some signs of anxiety, tail down, tapping feet, mild whimper. I call for him, there’s nothing there, come to daddy. No response. We figure he’s lost it now, the creeping senility we’ve suspected is real.
So I keep talking to him, calming him, approach to turn on the lights and show him around that there is nothing there. He stands eagerly waiting, full focus on me as I come closer. Then - tail high, he runs as fast his tiny legs can carry his body, to the seat where I was sitting, barking at my gf to be picked up into the couch.
And it dawns on me. It was all a ruse! He came up with the clever plan to lure me away from his desired spot. If he acts anxious I’ll get worried and get up, freeing up a vacancy on the couch, and then it’s a fair race who gets it first. His smug posture standing in my seat was what gave it away. He was not anxious at all, he was not afraid, that I’m not anthropomorphizing but that he knew exactly what he was doing.
A multi step sequential plan with a clear goal in mind that he came up with from no be prior training. If that is not intelligence, I don’t know what is.
My African grey Bert constantly surprises me with his intelligence. My personal favorite was the time he was trying to get the cat’s attention. He’d been muttering, whistling, and dancing in the cat’s direction for about 15 minutes and finally yelled “Why don’t you f-ing talk?” I don’t think he believed me when I told him the cat can’t talk.
We had a dog who was brilliant in almost every area. For example, he liked to watch television. Late at night he would go downstairs and turn on the TV. We only discovered it by accident, because he would also turn if off if he heard us coming. One night I walked in on him with his nose on the off button and the picture (on our old-style TV) still fading.
Once he knew that we knew, he stopped trying to hide it. He would turn it on and off when he wanted. Then he figured out, I assume from watching us, how to use the remote. Finally, he learned how to change channels using the remote. His favorite show turned out to be “The Pet Department” on Animal Planet. I kid you not.
I literally found him on the street, so I don’t know anything about his parents. And this was before canine DNA tests were a thing.
He had fur like a plush golden retriever, but if you ignored that, he mostly looked like a wolf. Our vet’s best guess was a shepherd mix with some husky and a lot of other bits and pieces.
Our Golden will actively watch Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Dragon Prince. Full on watch the TV. (And nature documentaries).
Most other shows he doesn’t really care one way or the other for.
Your sounds like a kindred spirit. Not all dogs understand televisions, but those who do seem to treat them much the same way we do. Most dogs are interested in other animals, so it makes sense that they would like nature shows. It sounds like yours also has a taste for fantasy, which is awesome.
This is very hard to believe… How would he use the remote? The keys are small for a dog.
I watched my Pekingese figure out a problem and use tools.
He wanted on the table where we were setting up for Thanksgiving. The table was stock full of delicious smells. Pekes are shaped like fat egg rolls with flipper feet. There was no way he could jump that high. But ohhhh… He wanted on that table. He just sat there, like a chubby kid staring at an unguarded cake three balconies above him.
After driving himself mental, pacing in place, whining, he sat down and started looking around, thinking about his plight. He saw a spare dining room chair we brought out to accommodate guests. He passed the usual heavy oak chairs to this cheap, IKEA spare chair. He scooted it with his face towards the table. He’d stop every so often, to see how close it was. He was gaging the distance.
Then, at the proper distance, he hopped on the chair and onto the the table before I grabbed him. It wasn’t so much “NO PUPPEH MAH PAHT PIAH!” but I knew he’d grab a slice of meat too big for him and choke on it trying to swallow it before I got it from him.
Later, I gave him his own plate with dog-appropriate and safe food on it.
But my Peke was now another tool-user in my house.
Reminds me of the time my old roommate was outsmarted by his cat.
He was sitting on the piano bench after some practice and I and another friend were sitting on the couch. We were all having a light conversation in the evening but his cat had all his comfy spots taken. He jumped up on the kitchen counter in protest–a spot he’s not meant to be–and my roommate went over to shoo him down. After he sat back down on the piano bench, I saw a lightbulb go off in the little cat’s brain. He hopped up on the counter again to test his hypothesis, and sure enough, my roommate went over to shoo him down. After the third time jumping up on the counter, the cat rushed over to the piano bench and immediately laid down. My roommate, being the sweet man he was, sat back down next to him on the little corner of the bench as to not disturb him :)
It was one of the most genius things I’ve ever seen an animal do.
We have a Boxer and a Wheaten, two weeks in age apart. If Will (Wheaten) is getting scratches, Seymour (Boxer) will go get a toy,any toy will work, and “play” with it in front of Will. Will has to be the “one” with the toy, so Will jumps down to take the toy away, and Seymour let’s him and takes the scratches.
