Popular at Last: Thanks to Dog Treats 🦴

There are few things in life that will make you feel as popular as owning a bag of dog treats.

I don't care if you were the homecoming queen, captain of the football team, or the person who always brought donuts to work. None of that compares to the level of fame you achieve when your dogs hear the unmistakable crinkle of a treat bag.

One minute, I am just a regular person walking through my house. The next, I have a fan club. Suddenly, I can't go to the kitchen alone. I can't go to the living room alone. I can't even stand up from the couch without being escorted by a team of furry bodyguards who are convinced I have treats hidden somewhere on my person.

The truly impressive part is how dogs can hear treat-related sounds from incredible distances. I can whisper a bag open in another room and somehow they know. Yet when I call their names because I need help finding a missing sock or want them to come inside, they suddenly develop hearing problems. Apparently, dog hearing works on a need-to-know basis.

Treats also have the magical ability to improve behavior instantly. Dogs who were sound asleep moments ago suddenly become model citizens. They sit. They stay. They make eye contact. They offer paws. Some dogs will perform every trick they know without being asked, just in case one of them happens to be the correct answer.

It's like watching contestants on a game show.

"Would you like a sit?"

Sit.

"How about a paw?"

Paw.

"Maybe a spin?"

Spin.

"Maybe another paw just to be safe?"

Paw again.

The competition becomes even more entertaining when there is more than one dog involved. The second one dog receives a treat, the others react as if a grave injustice has occurred. They stare at me with wide eyes and wounded expressions that seem to say, "I see how it is. After everything we've been through together."

Somehow, every dog becomes convinced that they are the only dog who has not received a treat in the history of treats.

The guilt is unbelievable. If I hand out one treat, I immediately feel obligated to conduct a full audit to ensure that everyone has been compensated fairly. I don't want to be responsible for a canine labor dispute.

Then there is the shadowing behavior. Once the treat bag appears, personal space no longer exists. Wherever I go, they go. If I take one step, three noses move with me. If I turn around, there they are. If I accidentally make eye contact, they assume negotiations have begun.

I am suddenly the most interesting person in the house.

What's funny is that this popularity is entirely conditional. The moment the treats are gone, so is my celebrity status. My loyal followers disperse. The fan club disbands. The bodyguards resign from their positions. I become just another human again.

But for those few glorious minutes, I am a superstar.

I am admired. I am respected. I am followed everywhere.

Not because of my sparkling personality or my wisdom.

Because I possess snacks.

And honestly, I can live with that.