I was making dinner (spaghetti) just a few minutes ago, and clicker training Violet (it's "Look" this week - I completely botched "Watch me" a couple months ago so that she somehow, inexplicably, thought it meant "Down," so it was back to the drawing board) intermittently between kitchen tasks, when I happened to think - "The light is nice, and I haven't gotten any decent pictures of the dogs lately, let me go grab the camera." I put a pound of hamburger in the skillet and left the kitchen for probably all of 30 seconds - you can see this coming, can't you? I should have too - and came back to find Violet what we call "being tall" - counter surfing, only in this case stove surfing. She'd eaten an entire pound of hamburger in seconds. She's fine, thankfully, no mouth or paw burns, but oh, I was not happy. The weird thing about Violet is that no matter how much I know that a behavior is unacceptable, even as I'm responding appropriately, I'm not really mad per se, more disappointed in myself for allowing it to happen. Mind you, she got a very firm "No, off, very very bad" and marched right to her crate, but all I was really thinking was, "I'm glad she didn't burn herself. How'd she get all that hamburger that fast without even disturbing the pan? God, I hope she doesn't get sick from it. I need to crack down on counter-surfing." Rather than the %^&**(! that I probably would be with another dog.
Which is why there are only pictures of Piper and Dewey, who absolutely would not be still for a good one.