Guilty dog ... bad river

THERE'S a pretty funny link on the net under the general subject of "Guilty Dog".

It's funny because, as we know, nobody but nobody gets to look more guilty than a dog that knows it's been Bad.

General scenario is: Owner returns home to find some sort of chewed-up mess on the floor or trashed cushion or whatever. Now starts the inquisition. What's interesting here is that in just about all the postings the inquisitorial language is virtually identical. Seems to be a universal kind of thing that's become part of human DNA from many generations of experience with Bad Dog.

It goes something like this. Owner, discovering doggie mess, pointedly points finger at it. "What is this?" he/she demands. This is such a critical issue that the question is invariably reiterated. "What is this?" Meanwhile, the lurking prospective felon/s is/are thinking, while looking innocently aggrieved, "What the hell do you think it looks like, bozo! It's a pile of chewed-up stuff on the floor, idiot!" Next question - with finger still in the point position - is another very vital one: "Who did this?" This question, too, is always repeated, this time with a bit more emphasis on the "who". Not surprisingly, no answer is forthcoming from the attendant audience. The thought bubble above the doggy head, though, is very evident. Inside the bubble, the words say: "One of the reasons I don't speak English is so I don't have to answer stupid questions like the one you just asked. Who do you think did it, moron? Santa Claus?"

However, while the highly visible evidence is not in dispute, the guilty dog knows it has nevertheless done Bad. Now it knows it must do what the script calls for, and, as some sort of penance perhaps, play out its role of Guilty Dog. This is always an Oscar-winner, as every dog is genetically engineered to give a flawless performance of Sad-eyed Pooch of the Lowlands. The human has to continue to play their part, too, of course. And the statutory next question is: "Was it you, Sophie?!" (Or Roger, or Maysie, or whoever). And guess what - this is always repeated too, the second time with a tad more emphasis on the pronoun: "Was it you, Sophie?" "Of course it was me, meathead," is always the unarticulated response.

But some dogs have an interesting variation in response to having their guilt irrefutably exposed. When the big question is asked - "Was it you, Digby?" - they will close their eyes and expose their front teeth. The exposing of the front teeth is not an aggressive gesture. It is, in fact, a faux smile. And believe me, forget about what animal behaviorists tell you, dogs know how to smile. Not just a goofy "everything-is-always-great" kind of smile. But a genuine human-type smile as when you get a good joke. So here, it's a big cheesy smile, albeit a phony one. The poor doggy brain is actually kidding itself that if it gives out an A-grade Super Smile, the owner will think, "How could such a regular guy with such a great smile be the guilty party here?" This stratagem is backed up with the closed eyes tactic. The small part of the doggy brain not involved with the smile ruse is trying out the old "If I can't see it then it all might just go away" trick.

Since the flood, the river has been playing Bad Dog. Hardly a ripple. Nary an obvious current or errant eddy. And scarcely a piece of flotsam in sight. Sluggish. Subdued. Moribund, almost. As if the river itself is saying, as owner pointedly points the finger at the washed out roads, munted properties and silt covered sections, "Who me? ... How could I, this listless little awa quietly meandering along minding its own business, have done all that damage? Shame for even thinking that!"

But when all's said and done, often there are underlying reasons at work. Could be that the couch got trashed mainly because the dog was just so doggone bored at being stuck home by itself all day. Could be the river got down and dirty again 'cos somehow most of its catchment cloak got trashed back when.