Sara's Dog

   It was the juice that caught the dog’s attention. She had been sniffing the odor all night long. But when she heard it dripping on the duck, she opened up her eyes and looked at Sara. Sara was looking directly at her and she slowly wagged her tail. She wasn't allowed to eat duck unless Sara first had sawed it off the bone. That was a rule. Gypsy had learned the bone rule long ago. 

   Sara didn't have to speak to Gypsy at all. Her eye was her command. She spoke to Gypsy with smiles and nods and stares. So it was that Gypsy laid on the floor, tail slowly wagging, waiting for the bell. It delighted Sara that Gypsy played the game. Each night, a while after dinner, Ivan would enter the kitchen with the bell cupped in his hand to prevent the dog from hearing it. Gypsy would look at Sara, who stood back and smiled. Ivan, who'd done the feat each night for weeks, would look at his wife and give the nod. Sara would place the bowl off in the corner where the dog generally ate and stepped away. Ivan would prepare the bell and then shake his hand.
   Ring-ring the sound came, and Gypsy would look up at Sara with one eye while the other focused on Ivan. Once, early on, Sara tested her theory and gave no nod and Gypsy sat on the floor staring at Ivan and the bowl. The whole time Ivan rang his stupid bell. Eventually he spoke rather loudly and said, "Gypsy!" To this the dog slightly stirred and then Sara smiled and ever so gently moved her head. Gypsy trotted to her bowl and began to eat. Ivan gave a “harrumph” and showed a bit of satisfaction and left the room. The bell now nestled in his hand.
   Sara decided that that was probably enough and never did it again. She would spare both Ivan and Gypsy any grief. Of course the bell trick at home was always between Sara and the dog, but Gypsy would also respond to Ivan’s bell whenever Sara wasn't around. It had become animal instinct thanks to Sara. And Pavlov never knew.