Smug Dog

My aunt’s dog, Jube, is such an little rascal. Apparently, according to my cousin’s eyewitness account, he just destroyed the neighbour’s inflatable pool by repeatedly attempting to bury random items in it – a stick, a chew toy, a clump of grass. Everyone, including the neighbours, let him keep doing it because they thought it was cute. It ended when he came at it with a spikey fence post he found on the side of the road.

I couldn’t stop laughing when I read my cousin’s text, complete with a photo of Jube standing proudly astride the scene of his mischief. It’s always seems to me that he knows that he’s destroying stuff, and enjoys it. If he was my dog, I’d be be on the hunt for vets near me that offer behavioural training. But, given that Jube is about 10 years old, I think my aunt might have missed the boat for that.

Luckily for him, he’s very charming, and can wrap just about anyone around his middle finger. I can’t help but think that he’s just buttering everyone up so that he can get away with dropping a number in their shoe when they’re not looking. That’s his trademark move. I can’t imagine too many dogs successfully pulling that one off more than once.

Jube is also a master of practical jokes. There was this one time that my aunt called me in a total flurry, rushing to find an emergency vet. Moorabbin had one that was open, so we dashed over there, only to find that the bleeding gash in Jube’s chest was actually just red paint. It turned out that he’d dragged my cousin’s watercolour kit of her desk draw and proceeded to artfully smear the red cake down his front, and act out an Oscar-worthy display of being injured (he immediately stopped upon being found out).

In all seriousness, I think that dog just has resting smug face. There’s no way of wiping the self-satisfied grin off his canine mug, and that’s just the way it is.