The Bartleby of Dogs

Regular readers of my blog might judge from the entries about my dog, Taz, that she has more bad qualities than good. At the risk of tipping the scales further against her, I have to relate yet another bad habit. Well, I say "bad." I don't really believe in those labels, especially as they apply to dogs. Taz is Taz, and we love her--even if that love sometimes seems indistinguishable from exasperation.

Maybe I'll use the word "hobbies" from now on. One of Taz's hobbies is to snatch used tissues from the wastebasket and rip them in pieces with her sharp little teeth. I find shredded Kleenexes on the carpet almost daily. This is one "hobby" I get a kick out of, however, because it does no permanent damage, and I love the excuse to scold her.

When Taz gets scolded, she doesn't grovel like most dogs. She just turns her head away and stares fixedly off into space for as long as it takes. Her refusal to acknowledge me and my exasperation is stronger than any positive action she could take. She could show me her teeth. She could hang her head. She could change her ways. But she prefers not to.