Fridays are my day off. I have the whole house and all four dogs to myself - my two (Roc and Dax) and Fran's two (Golly and Ceilidh).
I think we've mentioned about 80 zillion times that Ceilidh is a "special" dog. She doesn't like to be petted, she's constantly on the move, she's not good at eating, is hyperactive, etc. etc. etc.
So yesterday, I took the dogs out into the backyard, let them do their thing, sniff some, lie in the sun for a while. Then it was time to go in - I had things to do!
So I call them. Golly goes back to the house. Roc is right on her heels. Dax reluctantly gives up her patch of sun and goes inside. Ceilidh's running around the yard with a stick in her mouth. Ceilidh, who is obedience-trained, ignores "Come" ignores "Go Home" and dashes around the yard some more. I'm getting impatient, so I say "Dammit Ceilidh." At which, she immediately goes home.
So it occurs to me that Ceilidh thinks "Dammit Ceilidh" means go home. Poor Ceilidh.