If these dogs could talk

I have been very busy lately. Very busy and very tired. As a result, I've been cutting a few corners here and there. Not major corners, just like -- ok, here's an example: Dinner for the dogs. Normally, dinner for the dogs is raw chicken on the bone, which is great for them, but a holy mess to clean up for me. The other night I was just too, too tired. I mean, my own dinner that night came out of a cereal box, so if those dogs really thought I was going to do anything special for them, they had another think coming. They were going to eat kibble, and they were going to like it.

"Valentine! Theo!"

Two little dogs came running into the kitchen, tails and tongues wagging.

"Sit!"

Two little dog bottoms hit the floor. I scooped kibble into each little bowl.

"Bravo!"

Theo dove right in, chomping happily. Valentine didn't move. She looked at her bowl. She looked up at me. She thumped her tail on the linoleum. She looked at her bowl, up at me, thump, thump, thump. Down at her bowl, up at me ...

"Fine! Jeez." I opened the fridge and grabbed a tub of cottage cheese. Theo paused mid-chomp. His tail twitched. Valentine did a little happy dance and then sat nicely in front of her bowl. I opened the cottage cheese tub. Theo's nostrils flinched and he huffed. I reached for a spoon. He took a long step away from his dish and sat down, a perfect little dog, waiting patiently for his supper to be served, just like I taught him. I dipped the spoon into the tub and dropped a teaspoonful of cheese into Valentine's bowl as both little tails began a rhythmic thump, thump, thumping. I swirled the spoon in Valentine's bowl, kibble rattling loudly as it rolled, sweet cheese coating each crunchy morsel. I rapped the spoon on the edge of the dish, knocking off the last bits of cheese, and stood. Theo's eyes widened and Valentine's tail froze.

"Bravo!"

Valentine leapt for the feast and dove in. I slapped the lid back on the tub, flung it into the fridge and shut the door. I washed the spoon, dried my hands and dragged myself back to the living room where I crumpled onto the couch in a heap of exhausted limbs.

If you belong to the school of thought wherein dogs are stupid creatures who act soley on instinct, I would like you to tell me why, after finishing the last of his cheese-less meal, Theo lifted his leg and urinated in his bowl. Was that just instinct? Because it seems like a pretty well thought out statement to me.