“Bernice—sad. Want—Cody. I love you—Evie.”
She went silent for a moment, but then there was a sniff. “Damn it, your dog’s making me cry.”
“Evie—sad. Want—play—Bernice—hmm? Treat—treat—treat.”
Before Evie could ask if that meant my dog wanted to play with a treat, Bernice loped around the back of the couch and brought back the box of donuts I’d hidden there. I’d found out from her friends that she loved the ones made by Nice Buns with cinnamon and vanilla in the donut and glaze, so I’d persuaded the owner to hold back a dozen for Evie.
Dropping the box on her lap, Bernice went back to the buttons and waited.
Lifting the lid, Evie inhaled and groaned. If it hadn’t been for the fact this was being recorded, I’d have made a similar noise myself, but I managed to hold it in and cleared my throat instead.
“These are my favorites, thank you,” she said, looking at me with a grin on her face. Then, turning back to Bernice, she got up and started standing on the buttons. “Thank you—Bernice—Dad—treat. I love you.”
As she sat back down, she pulled a donut out and bit into it. “Holy hell, these things are the best. Here, try one.”
I wasn’t a fan of sweet things, but she looked so happy about eating them that I figured why the hell not. It was as I took the first bite, though, that I realized I’d made a mistake—they really were good. The donut itself wasn’t too sweet and sickly, and with the glaze being thin and the perfect mix of vanilla and cinnamon flavoring it all… I fell in love.
Evie had finished hers by the time I was taking my second bite, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched her suck her fingers into her mouth, one by one. That was mistake number two. See, I could ignore a moan—just—but her sucking on her fingers?
Donut or Evie?
“Smell—smell—smell,” Bernice said, ruining the moment as she stood on the button.
“Is she meaning to do that?” Evie asked, watching my dog as she glared at Rocket and Razzle.
“Bernice—want—stranger—leave—now. Smell—smell.”
Both of us looked over at where Rocket was still asleep on his back, but Razzle was looking slightly guilty.
“Do you need to go outside, Razzle?” The black Labrador just raised his eyes to me and thumped his tail.
Getting up, I moved to walk past him and winced when I smelled it. Yup, my dog hadn’t been lying, there was a smell.
After he’d run outside, I snorted at a still snoring Rocket, totally oblivious in doggy dreamland, and joined Evie on the couch again.
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or depressed that your dog can learn to press buttons to talk in six weeks, and all mine can do is fart.”
Bursting out laughing, I pointed out, “Bernice still gets them wrong, but she loves getting her own way, so she presses them to make sure it happens. With some more practice, she’ll be a pain in the butt.”
Shaking her head, she looked back at the camera.
“There you have it. Your dog really can learn to talk to you. We’ve attached links to the company who sent us the starter pack and that Alex bought the extra buttons from, and there’s also a link to a couple of books that came highly recommended.
“Why not let us know how you got on with your own dogs by tagging us in videos or commenting below. Also, as we always remind you, if there are any products you want us to test out or challenges you think we’d love, just let us know. It’s what we love to do.”
After signing off in what I’d come to recognize as the usual Delicious Divas way, she leaned back and grinned at me.
“That was actually pretty fun.”
“I didn’t think I’d enjoy it,” I admitted, “but I did. Thanks for getting me involved.”
“No, thank you for helping us out. I’m kinda blown away by what your dog can do.” Both of us looked at where Bernice was turning around in circles, trying to find the perfect place to lie down. “Hey, do you think you could teach her to swear?”
“She’s got a board at home waiting for the bad words to go on it. I just have to be careful that she doesn’t press it when Sheena’s around, or Tabby will kill me if she starts swearing because she heard ‘the puppy’ doing it.”
Evie nodded understandingly. “Yeah, that’s not fun when it happens. Cody picked up some words from Dad and Roque when he started talking. When we were at Olive Garden waiting for our orders to arrive one day, a waiter dropped a tray of plates. My son, sitting in his high chair at the table, winces and yells, ‘ah, shih, man!’ at the top of his lungs. I about died.”