What is the most intelligent thing your dog (or any other pet) has done?

Willy, short for “Willy the Wonderful Water Dog,” was our black Labrador and my Best Buddy. While looking at the puppies, I handed him to my wife. He promptly licked her face. Uhg. I got a chuckle out of it. He was the leader of the pack and all the other puppies followed him. Tail curled over his back. Chubby belly. Happy. Curious.

First Christmas

But, that’s just the puppy and as puppies go, he got into a fair amount of trouble.

I started teaching him right away. Sit. Stay. Come. Lie down. Fetch. All the usual stuff.

He was six months old that February when we took him to a pond with his favorite toy, a plastic dummy. At first, he just played in the shallows. Splashing and running. Getting the dummy and bringing it back. Then Mrs. Goodwife threw it a bit too far into much deeper water. In fact, it landed not far from the big iceberg in the middle of the pond.

Willy ran up to his shoulders. Stopped and turned to look at me.

“Go get it, Willy. Fetch!”

No amount of cajoling would get him to venture deeper into the water. I was about to give up.

My wife said, "Go get it, Willy! Fetch! Fetch it up!"

Oh sure. For her. He ran out to shoulder depth, reared up on his hind legs, front legs pawing the air. “"A RowR RowW Rowr Ror Err Gror,” and plunged in. That was actually the second time he swam, but that was a different and much scarier moment in his life, which may have had plenty to do with his reluctance.

Retrievers are amazingly receptive to learning new things and will teach themselves plenty if you let them. Willy definitely knew the names of our family, many objects, and at least two hundred plus other words. I spoke to him in sentences. I wanted to teach him to go left or right, back up, forward, and other directions which is great for being a retriever because you follow directions to find something.

At about nine months on a Sunday morning, I spent about 15 minutes on left and right. On Monday, I started a new job and unfortunately didn’t have as much time for specific training. However, he was already a star and would amaze us with the things he learned. Please remember this a few paragraphs down when I come back to finish this story.

I came out of the bank once and got in the truck. Willy was in the passenger seat with my phone in his mouth. He leaned over and dropped it in my lap. I looked and should not have been surprised to see that my wife had called. After cleaning a bit of drool off, I called her and told her what he did.

We brought home JD (Golden Retriever) when Willy was about 1 year old. They rode in the back seat of the truck all the way home together for four and half hours. A quick stop for both outside, and we brought them in. By then, JD was glued to Willy’s side.

Willy and his pal JD. He brought the toy to share, but JD was tuckered out.

The treats were kept in a closet. Willy wanted one and JD followed.

“Have manners,” my wife said. (Sit and behave, please. Not just for a treat, but for guests or whatever reason.)

Willy sat. Looked at JD, and pushed his little rump down with one paw, then looked at my wife. Cookie, please. Yes. Good boy. Very good boy.

It took Willy about 2 weeks to house train that six-week-old puppy, at least to the extent that any 8-week old puppy can be trained. We didn’t do a darn thing except to listen when Willy said it was time for the puppy to go out.

He used to carry his bowls just about everywhere, including out to the car when we took a road trip (and then go back for his dummies.) Time to eat, I’d ask Willy where his bowl was. (“Where’s your bowl?) This resulted in a mad dash to wherever he left it, and then he’d bring it to me. He came down on the deck once where I was having a beer with a friend and threw it at my feet. (“I’m hungry!”)

“Willy. Pick up that bowl.” He picked it up.

“Take it upstairs.” Ran up the stairs.

“Show Mama.” Inside to ask Mama for food. Yep. That’s my boy.

One day I said, “Where’s your bowl?” He ran off and didn’t come back. “Huh.”

“Got my bowl. Thanks for the drinks!”

I called him, he came without the bowl. After two reiterations, I went down the stairs to see what he was doing. There he sat, bowl between his front legs.

It took a minute for it to register with me because we’d ask him where many objects were, including each other.

Yes. He learned the difference between “where-is” and “go get” or “fetch [object]” All on his own.

I could regale you with Willy stories all day.

In his seventh summer, my brother and I were throwing dummies for the dogs off the dock at the family cabin. We’d been doing it for a couple of hours and the wind began to pick up. The calm lake turned very choppy, but it also made it easy to throw the dummy further.

Nothing better than jumping off a dock or boat to chase a dummy. And if you didn’t throw it for him, he would drop it off the dock, bark at it, then jump in after it and replay it again and again for hours until we made him stop.

I threw the dummy out and the wind carried it a long way. Willy, still in perfect form after hours of play, leaped off the dock and swam out. By the time he arrived where the dummy landed, the wind and waves had carried it some distance away. He swam in a circle.

“He doesn’t see it,” my brother said.

As Willy came around the circle a second time, I shouted, “LEFT.” I don’t know why I did it, except he needed to go left or come back so I could give him a line (point him) to the dummy.

But I’ll be darned if Willy didn’t turn left and after swimming short ways, spotted the dummy and put on a burst of speed to catch up with it.

I’ll just swim across the lake and get this log so you can throw it for me.

Seven years had passed since that Sunday morning lesson. Just one lesson for fifteen minutes. I’ll say it again. Seven years. My Best Buddy knew left from right and demonstrated it for us that afternoon and again the next day.

Willy shared everything with JD including food, water, treats.

I’ll end with one last, very sad story. Willy was 11, JD 10.

I came in from outside and saw Willy, but not JD. I called him, but he didn’t come.

“Willy. Where’s JD?”

He would not even turn his head to look at me.

Dread in my heart and a lump in my throat, I began a search that ended in the den downstairs. There was JD, curled up, but gone from this world.

I carried him up the stairs. Willy came down to meet me on the landing.

I never saw a dog cry. Never imagined one could or would. Willy cried. A sorrowful half moan, half howl I had never heard before or heard since. It gave me chills. Laid his muzzle on JD’s head and cried, and I cried with him.

And that was the most amazing and intelligent thing my Best Buddy ever did.

A couple of JD Pictures