I have a 30-pound Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Ein who has been… challenging. Like most herding dogs, Ein is very intelligent. Unlike the stereotypical man’s best friend, however, Ein chooses to use his intelligence for evil instead of for good.
He’s not mean, he’s just sneaky, calculating, and opportunistic. But, as with most evil-genius dogs, Ein is also inherently lovable. (Though there’s no telling what he could do if he had opposable thumbs. I, and my belongings, shudder at the thought.)
When I first got Ein, I had no idea what I was getting into. I was like most people who hear that a dog breed is “smart.” Oh, how wonderful! I can teach him tricks–and he’ll get them immediately! And he’ll practically housebreak himself and he’ll just be the best dog ever! In fact, he’ll be PERFECT!
Perfect dogs: They do not exist.
To help emphasize this point, here are a few realities I’ve learned about smart dogs (and have been reinforced by Dr. Corgenstein in my area).
1. Smart does not equal quiet or calm.
Think about the super smart people you know. Are they more easily bored by a lack of intellectual stimulation than the average Joe? Ein is perfectly content to keep me company and watch what I’m doing, but I’m not always around, and I don’t always let him follow me absolutely everywhere. If he’s in napping mode, this is okay. If he’s bored, this can lead to disaster–calls from the neighbors, and lots of cursing. Smarter equals a better able to figure out ways around “dog-proofing.”
2. Smart does not equal easily trainable.
The definition of a “trained” dog means that the dog not only knows how to perform a specific task, he also performs the actual task on command with reliability. So, smart dogs can be more of a training challenge. Just because your smart dog knows HOW to do something and he knows WHAT you are asking him to do, it does not mean he’s actually going to do it. Sometimes, when the mood strikes him, Ein will obey every command flawlessly. Other times, I can see the wheels turning in his head as he asks himself, “Why should I do this? What will I get out of this?” If he calculates that his reward is insufficient, Ein does nothing. I have never seen a nice, affable mastiff do such a thing.
3. Smart does not equal a “good dog.”
Again, just because a dog knows HOW to behave, it does not mean he will. Corgis are especially notorious for trying to figure out how to use what they’ve learned to benefit themselves. They’re opportunistic (which is different than being selfish).
Every once in awhile, I’m forced to put Ein on a diet. (Completely my own fault, I know.) Once the diet begins, Ein “forgets” almost every single piece of training he’s ever learned… until I produce my training/treat bag. Ein also has selective hearing. He can hear the mailman 30 feet down the front walk, but somehow goes deaf when I call him to put on his monthly topical meds. I’m pretty sure he’s actually too smart.
4. Smart does not equal emotionally devoid.
Dogs have the emotional capacity of having a bad day, or of losing their patience. (Please don’t get me started on the ludicrous idea of a “good dog” being one that puts up with infinite abuse from a toddler without any reaction.) And, if ignorance is bliss, then smart dogs won’t always have a good day. They’re highly sensitive to their surroundings, and are more likely to react to things than a more complacent dog would be. For awhile, Ein had a “brother” who was a big, sweet, biddable lab. Fezzik didn’t seem to be bothered by things as much as Ein. I thought maybe he was just more laid back (which he was), but he also didn’t seem to think as much. While Fezzik hated topical medication time just as much as Ein, he never figured out what I might be calling him about until it was too late. Ein’s intelligence and own emotional sensitivity allowed him to note a very subtle difference in my tone of voice—one that I can’t even hear. He was also smart enough to not “warn” Fezzik, and make his escape while I was dosing the lab with meds.
5. SMART DOES NOT EQUAL PERFECT.
Let’s say you have a good, sweet, smart dog who is just dying to please you (and if you do, I’d appreciate a DNA sample so that I might clone him or her). That dog will still never be “perfect.” No matter how much you train a dog or how well behaved your dog “always” is, he is STILL A DOG, and dogs have very strong instincts. One instinct that all dogs have (that humans don’t and therefore have a difficult time understanding) is a prey drive. While the strength of the prey drive can vary from dog to dog, ALL DOGS HAVE IT. It’s what makes them like to chase quick movements and pounce on squeaky toys. It’s what causes the bugs and geckos that get into my house to be marked for death (Ein is quite the hunter). The closest thing I can think of to a human prey drive reaction is when you walk past a Godiva chocolate store and you immediately think “ohmygodthatlooksgoodIwantit.” Can you imagine trying to train yourself to not have that initial, almost reflexive reaction? That’s what trying to get rid of a dog’s prey drive is like.
Why would anyone want to get rid of that kind of drive? Because no dog behaves well when in the full thrall of his prey drive. Ein is a perfect little leash walker… until a bunny darts past him. My well-mannered furball then turns into 30 pounds of hell hound, complete with frenzied, high-pitched barking, desperate attempts to hurl himself out of his collar, and fruitless endeavors to bite the bunny from at least 20 feet away.
There are several things you can do to change a dog’s prey drive, but you CANNOT eliminate it. Ever. This means that no matter how wonderfully smart, intuitive, and well behaved your smart dog is, you can never rely on him one hundred percent not to bolt after a cat… and drag you into the bushes with him.
I’m not saying all smart dogs adhere to every single point on this list. Just because Ein is a hell spawn doesn’t mean your dog is or will be. And, just because your dog doesn’t act like Ein doesn’t mean she’s not a smart dog. However, it’s better to be prepared than to have to learn the hard way about your evil genius dog. I’ve lost a lot of food and material possessions that way.
About the Author
Ashan Dezoysa is a stereotypical California animal and nature loving guy. On the weekends you’ll find him trying to keep up with his own dog along the streets of Downey, or at the beach on a leisurely kayaking adventure. If you have a pup of your own, you can find lots of things to keep your dog safe, secure, and cozy on his website.
