Toby the Puppy doesn’t have what I would call a “cunning” face.

But I am believing now with every fiber of my being that he is playing his mother and me like a country fiddle.

You know by now that I consider Toby to be the smartest canine God ever created. For example, he is learning how spell certain words that we used to spell out because the sound of the word would fill him with expectations. He knows the sound of names, such as Emma our granddaughter; we mention her name and he gets amazingly excited. Just the other day, my wife and I were talking to each other about when Emma would arrive. Toby heard her name and ran to the front door, tail wagging … waiting for her arrival, which occurred a few moments later.

I also am believing that he can read lips and for all I know he can lock and unlock doors to our house and our vehicles.

We installed a puppy door in the rear of the house. Toby hasn’t yet walked through it on his own. I do believe, though, that he knows how to do it, but that he is refusing to do so because he enjoys watching us get up and nudge him through the doggie door.

Therein lies the playing factor.

We’ve sent him outside and kept him there. We have sat in the house and waited for him to finally push his way back through the door. He doesn’t budge. He sits at the door. Nose fogging up the plastic doggie entrance. He waits us out. The puppy has patience.

I am not angry with him. Perhaps I’m a bit frustrated at this moment because I wish he would just suck it up and walk through the doggie door like I know he can do it.

But he’s having a bit too much fun making us jump up at his every implied command.

I won’t give up on him, although I likely will have to prepare myself for a lengthy battle of wills.