You all must know how much I love Toby. That if my house was burning and I only had time to get out one of my loved ones, it would be him. I wear rose-coloured glasses when it comes to him. Everything he does is cute and amazing and, quite frankly, doggy-genius. There is no better dog in the world.
Once I got him trained, I could make him do or not do pretty much anything. It's such a power-trip having total control over another living being and have them still love you unconditionally. For example, I'm decorating a lolly cake and a malteser rolls off the cake and onto the floor I can stop him from pouncing on it and gobbling it up - but mostly I don't because it's funny to see him scrabbling around the tiled floor trying to chase it.
But if I had to say his one small flaw, it would be his obsession with food. He loves it. Doesn't matter what you're eating, if it's good enough for a human it's good enough for a Toby. And there is never a meal that's eaten without his pleading brown eyes in the background.
We've been training him for months now not to eat in our lounge room - which is also the dining room. And by training him, I really mean that we're training ourselves not to give him any food in there. It's a tough one for the weaker amongst us (yes, I'll admit that I'm the worst culprit and that Iven has a heart of stone) but
Yes, I did it on purpose. No I wasn't deliberately slack.
And this is what I found this morning.
I've had to remove my rose-coloured glasses and admit that he's not perfect. But he's pretty damned close.