Dogs all over town are talking about a brand new scientific study that claims they understand what we say to them. They're worried — and with good reason. They've been trying to keep this secret from humankind for thousands of years. The last thing they need is for us to find out that the whole muttly crew nailed human language eons ago — and they've been having us on ever since.
A group of researchers tested 13 canine volunteers who could be trusted to maintain a "Down. Stay. Don't move!" long enough to get MRI images of their brains. The data showed that the happy parts of their cerebra lit up like glow-in-the-dark collars when they heard their owners' voices — but only when they used positive words and spoke in fun, upbeat tones of voice, such as, "Good Dog!" or, "Who's a boo? Ooo are! Yes, oo are!" They determined that the average family pet recognizes up to 150 words. The brain scans, however, did NOT register much activity at all when the same words were delivered with a dull voice or when negative messages were delivered. The scientists concluded that the dogs did not understand those particular communications.
I say, Baloney! Do we honestly believe that creatures as smart as our canine companions have only picked up 150 "fun" words? They know doggone well what we are saying, and it doesn't depend on a happy voice. Here's my theory: the clever rascals PERFECTED the art of selective listening generations ago.
And there are good reasons for this doggie deception. Up until the publication of this research, pooches everywhere have been getting away with all manner of shenanigans simply by employing their patented three point procedure for feigning innocence: 1. perk up their ears, 2. tilt their heads to one side, 3. pull the comical, quizzical face. Or they might unleash the ultimate emergency tactic: the guilt-ridden big cow eyes with hang-dog expression. They'll be all like, "I don't understand you. I wasn't supposed to flush the gerbil?" We've been programmed to find this gambit endearing. Our hearts melt and before we know it, we're forgiving them for everything from barfing on the carpet to stashing the cat in the dryer to depositing mouse carcasses on the linoleum.
"Bad dog! Didn't I TELL you to leave that thing outside?"
("Yes. Yes, you did. But, as you aptly point out, I am a Dog. I don't speak Human, remember? I thought you said INSIDE. Yeah, that's it. Inside. Now, watch this! Here comes the ear perk, the head tilt and the funny face! We're good, right? Okay. I'll be going for my nap now. Call me for lunch.")
Sure, they respond with slobbery glee when we toss out oft-repeated, playful suggestions, like, "Find your ball!" Or food-related phrases, such as, "Want your din-dins?" Or when we urge them into a merry chase with words like, "PUSS-PUSS!" They know how to work the system — and how to get what they want: the aforementioned ball, din-dins, or feline.
But just try phrases like, "Will you PLEASE quit drooling on my SHOES!" Or, "That's not YOUR pizza!" Or, "I DO NOT need help loading the dishwasher!" Or, "Get your furry butt OUT of those Hostas!" You've said these things a million times! Just cow eyes. You know what? They're simply ignoring you!
Yes, I'm on to their little caper. Have been for some time. But I've decided that it's best to keep it to myself. After all, it only makes ME look bad if my dog ignores my commands; "RIL-EEEY! Don't sniff that lady's crotch!!"
"Really, Mom?"
"Yes. Really, Riley. You heard me!"
"Hm. Maybe. Call me for lunch."
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