Training the Human
Every day, at 4 o’clock, Bumble gets dinner (yummy pellets). Every day, at 3 o’clock, Bumble hops to his bowl, sits down, and waits. If I look in his direction, he stares at me.
If I fail to respond by feeding him, he pulls hay out of the storage drawer and chews it while staring at me.
On cleaning day, Bumble gets a fresh bowl, but it isn’t put out until dinnertime, so he has to make do with sitting in the general vicinity of where his bowl belongs and staring at me.
I’ve never captured this, but on days when he’s decided I’m almost too stupid to teach, he will stare at me, wait for me to make eye contact, dip his nose into his bowl, (“I put my nose in here and pretend to eat my dinner. GET IT?”) and then stare at me again. I’m really grateful he can’t talk on those days.
