It all started with a treat

It all started with a treat. When we acquired our long-haired dachshund, Chloe, she was a tiny puppy someone had the bright idea to house-train her using treats. I suppose I read it somewhere since I was until that moment a cat-only person. Being the "responsible" pet owner I promptly bought a different type of food to use as treats (versus the fatty 'regular' treats.) and counted them in her daily diet.

To my husbands surprise (he who had multiple dogs and never thought the treat idea would work) Chloe was house trained in 4 days. Actually, it was more like 2-but she had puppy worms and had a few accidents beyond her control.

Then came day 5-and on that day or beautiful smart puppy trotted out happily to "GO bathroom", squatted down...and popped back up without doing anything...and demanded her treat. We were amused-but didn't fall for it. Chloe decided to test this for several days before finally admitting defeat. Or did she-since she suddenly decided to go #1, come in-get her treat...then want back out for #2 and ANOTHER treat. And, we allowed this because, hey, she followed the rules.

Fast forward 11+ years. Chloe (well within the preferred weight set by Vet I might add) continues to milk treats from us for every 'excursion' outside. By now, it is an ingrained instinct. She hunts us down and makes us remember to give her a treat if we dare forget.

At some too-early time this morning I took her highness out to the bathroom. Gave her her treat and we went back to bed. I got resettled on bed and was dropping back to sleep when Chloe insisted she needed to go out again. SO I made The husband take her out. He came back shaking his head saying she went out and came back in-but no business. We settled down again and once again, she insisted she needed to go out. Annoyed, I grabbed her up and went downstairs muttering something about The husband.

At the bottom of the steps it hit me. The little Sh*t didn't want to go out the the bathroom. She wanted a treat. Not her BATHROOM treat...but her (perceived) BEDTIME treat. You see, for the last few days I have taken a red Twizzler to bed and we have shared it. Chloe loves red Twizzlers. Loves them. She can smell them a mile away. She gets a (small) bite or two when either of us is eating one. Its one of her rare sinful treats.

She was 'confused'. She thought that since we were downstairs...and went up to bed that she should get a Twizzler treat.

Uh-uh. No way. She's too smart to be 'confused'. She was playing us. At some mind numbing minute of the way-too-early morning.

Someone furry ended up sleeping the rest of the night on the floor. Sans Twizzler.