But the Chihuhuas are even smarter than that. It's still amusing when I think of Ty's previous owner telling me that he wasn't that smart because he wasn't listening to her. He wasn't listening to her because she wasn't the boss--he had her trained. No, the problem was that he was too smart.
I remember the time I told his brother "squeak! squeak! you gotta make the toy squeak!" and Tidbit looked at me, looked at the toy, and I could see the understanding come over him as he ran around the room making the toy squeak.
Zoey looks at me with the same intensity as Dancer, but she's even smarter. And when the Chihuahuas strain to understand me, their little heads turn back and forth like they were little toys themselves, which is much cuter than the solemn look the Corgis gave me, though Zoey does remind me of Dancer.
And unlike my elderly mother, who will sit in her chair yelling at her cats and dogs, who completely disregard her, my dogs know that I mean what I say, even if I sometimes joke around. My serious voice means stop and listen, and my pancake voice means pancakes are coming.
Sometimes there's a game involved, or a hidden meaning or trick. And it's funny to see them strain to listen, especially when they all do it at once. It's rare that I can catch it on video because they don't like non-food objects pointed at them.