Last fall, I started teaching Philip how to feed the dog. I was pleased that we had found a chore that he could claim as his own. With some prompting, he would scoop a cup of food from the bin in the laundry room, carry it into the kitchen, pour it into Roscoe’s dish and return the empty cup to the bin. He seemed to really enjoy the ritual of this chore.
Unfortunately, Philip soon discovered that it looks really cool if you spin the cup of dog food rather than just dumping it in the dog’s dish. It’s more interesting to watch the dog food go flying and to listen to it clatter all over the floor. Needless to say, after the tenth (at least) time this happened, I decided it was easier to feed Roscoe myself rather having our pooch hunt for his kibble all over the floor.
Today, Philip and I had just returned from walking the dog. I was getting Roscoe’s supper ready when Philip came over to help. I decided to take a chance. He carefully carried the cup of food over to the dish. I held my breath, waiting for him to spin it. Instead, he carefully poured it in the bowl.
The water bowl.
In between the time I stopped having Philip feed the dog and today, Peter had swapped the location of the water bowl and food dish. Philip, operating on motor memory, put the food where I had trained him.
Fortunately, the dog will eat anything, even soggy lamb and rice crunchies.