OOookay, I have to share my story. Before I retired to learn to be a cannabis gardener, I trained service dogs. Papillons. Tiny enough to ride on laps in wheelchairs, so they wouldn't have to get their paws burned outside on hot, desert pavement.
I had a little 4 month old Papillon at the time, who'd finally earned "free in the house" priviliges once he learned to ring the doorbell to ask to go outside to eliminate.
One day, he came staggering out of the bedroom, all glassy-eyed, bumping into the hallway walls, falling down, getting back up, bumping into furniture. I swooped him up, got him to the vet in a nanosecond, certain he was coming out of an epileptic seizure.
The vet looks at him on the table, checks his eyes, says, "If I didn't know you as well as I do, I'd swear this puppy was stoned." He did all the blood tests, yadda yadda, and by then, puppy was back to his normal self.
We get home, and I go into the bedroom, notice my bedside table drawer was open. Ohhh, yeah, little service dog in training, who had learned to open and shut drawers and doors very well. Just had not learned to do it on command yet, not when he wanted to.
The entire ounce I had in my baggie was gone, disappeared. I crawl under the bed with a flashlight, and sure enough, the what's left of the stems and the ripped up baggie was right there, with his cache of toys.
To this day, he still loves the herb, and from that episode, I learned quickly to put my herb in mason jars he could not open. That was 11 years ago. Yet, come trim time, and he's always there, waiting for that errant fan leaf to fall.
And no, I never did admit to my vet that it was all my fault for teaching a 4 month old dog how to open and close doors and drawers before I installed baby latches on all of the stuff that opened and closed.
And yes, he eventually learned to do real service dog work, and on cue, not when he wanted to do it!
