Have you ever played "Find the Other One?" Let me explain. A human stands in a large field and flings a ball as far as they can, using a three foot flinging implement. It should go about thirty or forty yards. The dog, in my case, Becky, a very superior lurcher, who I am stroking, as I write, charges off , at great speed, after the ball. The human immediately scoops up a second ball and flings it in the opposite direction. The dog has to retrieve both balls. Becky loves this game.

Playing this requires a great deal of skill and instinct. Becky will survey the field in a pattern which resembles interlocking figures of eight. As a sighthound she searches primarily using her eyes, rather than using scent. She can find two balls thrown a hundred yards apart, with great ease.

But the question is asking how smart she is, and not how keen her instincts are. Let me explain where the cleverness comes in. While engaged in this activity Becky keeps an eye on me. She is watching for signs that I am getting ready to go home. It is what happens then, that demonstrates how smart she is.

Becky's great powers, drawn from her instincts, desert her. Her ability to find balls drastically declines. Well you being discerning might very well consider the possibility that the poor canine simply gets tired. Maybe her paws have just had enough. That is a reasonable doubt.

There is however evidence that by beloved hound is a cheat, a fraud and darn right deceitful. Harsh words for an adored pet, you might be thinking. However I can back up my allegation.

Becky wants to play all day. She has a strategy to extend playtime. I have seen her hide the balls; not just once but on a number of occasions. She'll nose butt them into long grass as she runs past; she'll even quickly pick it up and drop it down, then sweep run in wide circles pretending to look for it.

My dog knows how to play dumb. She moves from being one of greatest examples of a searching machines you'll find anywhere in the natural world, to a doggie that can't find its own tail.

Now con artists are the lowest of the low, but you have to admit, that carrying off a confidence trick takes a degree of intelligence. The shameful truth is that Becky conned me for ages. I couldn't figure out why her great instincts kept deserting her, until one day I spotted her picking up a ball and dropping it, as she quickly ran along.

How smart is my dog? I don't want to tell you. The humiliation is too much. Alright, I'm taking a deep breath and now I'm answering the question. She is smart enough to con me.

Learn more about this author, Noel Mcgivern.
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