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Oh, Puppy.
Jun. 5th, 2009 09:49 amShetland sheepdogs are smart little things. How one should determine that has, of course, been the subject of much discussion; a psychologist named Coren ranked the AKC breeds by how quickly the dogs picked up new commands, but note that;
"People with highly trainable dogs tend to assert that trainability and intelligence go hand in hand. People with less easily trained dogs tend to assert that refusal to follow rote commands is a sign of intelligence. Both are correct. If intelligence is defined as an innate ability to learn or perform at the optimal mental capacity to perform a function, then intelligence in one breed should be defined differently from that in another. An intelligent Border Collie understands and controls sheep; an intelligent Saluki understands and catches jack rabbits. If they switched jobs (or brains) they would both be labeled dumb."
Personally, I think that the term "intelligence", like "love," is both too emotionally fraught and imprecise to refer to much of anything with accuracy. On a gut level, though, one might feel that the words mean something essentially, and for me, at least in terms of dog intelligence, that means the ability of a canid to live a long, happy life being cared for by nobody by itself, a la wolves in the wild or stray domestics who have learned to commute using public transit. Perhaps intelligence in kept dogs could be defined as those animals which combine high ability to solve problems independently (as they would in the wild) with the high desire to please and obey us (puppy submissive behavior in a wolf) that translates into picking up new commands quickly.
But I digress. What I meant to say is that shelties are smart little things. They occasionally come up with interesting solutions to the problems in their lives. In this case, the problem that Coba faces is that he covets my socks, and occasionally my underwear. He has discovered that I never allow him to have these things, and furthermore, if they are left in obvious places or collected in my presence, I'll confiscate his prizes.
Coba's solution is to wait until I am gone. Then, he sticks his usefully pointy muzzle between the slats of the laundry hamper and carefully extracts just the item he wants. When he's done, he caches them. Yeah, Coba. I found that little collection of socks hidden under the blankets in your dog bed. And the chewed-upon thong behind the fuschia bush in the back yard. Those were my underwear, furball. Busted.
I know, I know. He likes those things because they smell like His Very Own Human, they comfort him in my absence, and I should be flattered. I actually sympathize quite a lot, being pretty darned scent-triggered myself. For instance, I take a great deal of comfort from curling up with something that smells like someone I love, particularly when I am waking or going to sleep and am at my most emotionally vulnerable. It's such an intuitive, sublogical response, is kind of bizarrely strong, and is pretty much the exact behavior Mr. Housefox Parfait is exhibiting, except I wouldn't actually want by beloved's underwear, just her blanket or pillowcase. There are times I feel like I get along well with dogs because I am one.
Ok, so Coba and I may have similar motivations. I'm still switching the laundry to the basket with smaller holes. But I'll consider letting him borrow a pillowcase before I wash it now and then.
"People with highly trainable dogs tend to assert that trainability and intelligence go hand in hand. People with less easily trained dogs tend to assert that refusal to follow rote commands is a sign of intelligence. Both are correct. If intelligence is defined as an innate ability to learn or perform at the optimal mental capacity to perform a function, then intelligence in one breed should be defined differently from that in another. An intelligent Border Collie understands and controls sheep; an intelligent Saluki understands and catches jack rabbits. If they switched jobs (or brains) they would both be labeled dumb."
Personally, I think that the term "intelligence", like "love," is both too emotionally fraught and imprecise to refer to much of anything with accuracy. On a gut level, though, one might feel that the words mean something essentially, and for me, at least in terms of dog intelligence, that means the ability of a canid to live a long, happy life being cared for by nobody by itself, a la wolves in the wild or stray domestics who have learned to commute using public transit. Perhaps intelligence in kept dogs could be defined as those animals which combine high ability to solve problems independently (as they would in the wild) with the high desire to please and obey us (puppy submissive behavior in a wolf) that translates into picking up new commands quickly.
But I digress. What I meant to say is that shelties are smart little things. They occasionally come up with interesting solutions to the problems in their lives. In this case, the problem that Coba faces is that he covets my socks, and occasionally my underwear. He has discovered that I never allow him to have these things, and furthermore, if they are left in obvious places or collected in my presence, I'll confiscate his prizes.
Coba's solution is to wait until I am gone. Then, he sticks his usefully pointy muzzle between the slats of the laundry hamper and carefully extracts just the item he wants. When he's done, he caches them. Yeah, Coba. I found that little collection of socks hidden under the blankets in your dog bed. And the chewed-upon thong behind the fuschia bush in the back yard. Those were my underwear, furball. Busted.
I know, I know. He likes those things because they smell like His Very Own Human, they comfort him in my absence, and I should be flattered. I actually sympathize quite a lot, being pretty darned scent-triggered myself. For instance, I take a great deal of comfort from curling up with something that smells like someone I love, particularly when I am waking or going to sleep and am at my most emotionally vulnerable. It's such an intuitive, sublogical response, is kind of bizarrely strong, and is pretty much the exact behavior Mr. Housefox Parfait is exhibiting, except I wouldn't actually want by beloved's underwear, just her blanket or pillowcase. There are times I feel like I get along well with dogs because I am one.
Ok, so Coba and I may have similar motivations. I'm still switching the laundry to the basket with smaller holes. But I'll consider letting him borrow a pillowcase before I wash it now and then.
