The Tactical Mind Of Byron

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Little Byron loves his walkies. He needs to explore, dig holes and find our what the other animals have had for breakfast. But when do walkies become subject to covert tactical decisions? When it's cold.
It was -15° in the mountains, and walkies had become a strictly necessary affair. Once a day, we'd walk for a few hours, around the mountain top, through the dense forest, and along the frozen stream, until we came back to our little home, where the great paw wash would occur, followed by a roaring fire and a hot cup of tea. Byron enjoys these things significantly less than I do. His preference is the snow. Here, we are a little less compatible.
And this was when the first strategic decisions were revealed. In a technique I call "Walkies Elongation", Byron had realized that, aside from our main walk, the rest of his outings, in that cold February, were only as long as it took for him to do his business, and we would swiftly head back inside, where we'd spend a good while by the fire. Over a couple of days, I noticed these "business adventures" becoming quite a bit longer, until it was clear that he was withholding his business, despite a full bladder, in order to elongate his outing. The cheeky mister.
And the technique has gone nowhere. This February has seen, not only the now-standard Walkies Elongation Technique, but also a range of new tactical maneuvers. They are as follows:
The Drag And Run Technique
This is where, upon approaching the door to the house, the body is aligned with the opposing building and pressed firmly, thereto, and then a sudden sprint is applied, in an attempt to pull me far from the door. I suppose the expectation is that I will find myself so far from the door, that I may as well continue walkies around the village. So far, this has only resulted in excessively worn patches in Byron's coat and a shorter leash at home time.
The Ghost Whining Technique
Wherein, instead of a full-blown whine, which is known to cause irritation and not yield any carrot treats, just the faintest whisper of a whine is deployed, getting under my skin without technically qualifying for a whine. It's more like a labored breath, and he knows I can't stand it. However, since this is also failing to yield carrot treats, and my completely ignoring it is seeing it diminish, as I'd hoped.
The Muzzle Mysery Claim
I don't use a muzzle, unless I really need to. Byron's not a biter, and besides, he really doesn't like it. So, on those occasions where he tries to cause trouble with another dog, he gets two minutes of muzzle time, just to show him he was bad. But it's surprising how miserable he will appear to be, whilst wearing it, especially considering how happy he is the moment I remove it. This technique exploits the compassion gene, extensively relying on the use of extreme puppy eyes, considerable whining (the more sorrowful, the better), and repeated attempts to remove the muzzle. This last one, of course, is only natural, but it still adds to the effect.
Upon removal of the muzzle, however, the latent trauma of the torment evaporates instantly, leaving me wondering how much of it was theater (and suspecting it all was).
And, finally, the latest in his advancing understanding of manipulation...
The Begging Technique
Frankly, I'm surprised this has only just started, but I can't act completely surprised. It's only the last month or so that I've been receiving the most delicious vegetable box from an organic farm, and it was very shortly after his first taste of these carrots and bell peppers (yes, both are safe for dogs, in reasonable quantities), that begging became a thing. Whenever I pick up either vegetable, now, he is at my feet in a moment, sitting, offering both paws, and proving puppy eyes, as is to be expected.
The life of a dog is a surprisingly emotional and manipulative one. They might be our best friends, but they will work against our weaknesses when they need to. Be warned. Your fluffy pal could be lying to you, right now!