From right to left: Logan, the ever-handsome A, and the smart dummy.
Tale number one ( I swear I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t happened right in front of me):
We got our dogs a new toy for Christmas, because, yes, we are that kind of dog owner. It was a stuffed giraffe, and it was adorable. Of course, the doggies had to compete to see who would claim ultimate ownership of New Toy. Traditionally Logan loves tennis balls more than anything, but he also is obsessed with whatever is new, especially if our baby dog, Martigan, wants it. Martigan will happily chase a ball, but his true love is stuffed toys, especially if they have squeakers, which New Toy did. So naturally Logan was dominating New Toy while poor Martigan looked mournfully on.
Martigan tried to get him to give it up; he tried to steal it, to muscle it away to no avail. He tried what I can only assume was canine coercion, doing a bark/whine combination while scooting his skinny butt forward. Logan was having none of it. After longingly looking on for five minutes (an eternity in puppy years) Martigan abruptly turned around and started rooting around in his toy box. (Yes, our dogs have a toy box. I already said we’re those kind of dog owners.) He emerged with a green tennis ball held haughtily between his teeth. He pranced around the room until he was in Logan’s direct line of sight, then forcefully dropped the ball, letting it bounce and roll for several feet. Instinctively, Logan was up on his feet, chasing the ball. Faster than you could say “oh, snap!” Martigan pounced on New Toy and carried it triumphantly away, while Logan looked on in confusion, ball clenched protectively between his teeth. All I could think was “dude, you just got played!” and “my dog is so freakin’ smart!”
Tale number two (occurred about five minutes after tale number one):
I walk into my yarn room to look for an errant ball. My dutiful doggies followed me. As I’m sitting down on the guest bed examining the label on a hank of yarn, I hear a wet, slurpy sound. I look up to see my smarty-pants little puppy trying valiantly to lick a spot of sunshine that’s coming in through the blinds off of the wall. For five minutes. When he finally figures out that he can’t get it off, he switches to another spot six inches away. Rinse and repeat three times. What a dummy.
Bigger in Real Life 
Ah, the joys of dogs. So very smart and so very silly all at the same time. Perhaps Martigan has a touch of Crow in him, the part that goes “Ooooo! Shiny!”.
Hahaha!! Love it!