I recently replaced the sliding glass doors leading to my back porch with French doors. When my dog Blondie went out the sliding doors, she exited on the right. But with the French doors, it’s the one on the left that opens first. So now she comes up the stairs and sits patiently on the porch in front of the wrong door. And I open the other side and stand there to let her in. And she looks at me with some interest and then returns her intent gaze to the door in front of her, waiting for it to open. And I think to myself, “Please god. Don’t let my dog really be this dumb.” And then, after a full minute stand off, I reach out, grab her by the collar and reluctantly drag her in through the open door.
I do hope she catches on before too long… before summer company arrives and I have to explain this to them… before my sister comes and realizes the closest thing to a niece that I will be producing for her is not the brightest bulb in the box… before my friend Grace arrives and realizes that Blondie would be part of the special ed section of her class.