Imagine a leather sofa with a little battery-acid-caused hole in it. Said hole is usually covered by a blankie, serving to hide said hole from inquiring mutts. Imagine now, arriving home from a long day at work. Emerging from said hole--stuffing. Flung about the room. Exuberence abounds during the mandatory greeting from the mutts. Stuffing is sighted. Smarter older mutt (ok, and she could also be a supermodel, she's that beautiful) takes cover under the dining room table from verbal admonishing. Not-so-smart (pretty in her own small headed way) younger mutt smiles and doesn't worry about the scolding.
Until the words "Bad Dog" are uttered. Then remorse weighs on her, shame curling her tail down, causing shifty brown eyes to almost fill with puppy tears.
That's the scenario Neal gave me last night. Maddie, who is never sorry for anything naughty she has done, really just never knew she'd been naughty. It's all in using the right words.
Of course, I think she's an angel. I'm sure she wasn't responsible for the stuffing debacle. Really.