Felix is Felix

I cannot remember which one of my hunting buddies coined the term "Felix is Felix". What I do remember is that we both agreed to settle on that short three-word description of a dog we had been unable to describe in any other way dispite hours of trying.

Felix is Felix.

A great looking, hard hunting pain in the ass.

A hammer-headed freight train of a dog who has shown me things in the field that I thought were near impossible... and who has given me more grief around the house than a leaky roof.

He is by far, the smartest dog I have ever encountered. And if you think that a really, really smart dog is a good thing, think again. Any dog smarter than the average college graduate is more than a handful for a mediocre dog trainer like me....especially if there is a streak of evil in the genius.

Yesterday morning I took a photo of Felix that shows him in all his glory. He is fully aware of our policy with regards to standing on the furniture waiting for the cat to pass by so he may launch a surprise attack. It is not allowed. In fact, I had given him a very specific order to lie DOWN and wait for me while I made tea in the kitchen. Yet here he is, ready to spring the trap on a poor efeminate 16 year old cat named Calou.

Somehow though, he must have known that he was in the most glorious, golden light of the day. He must have sensed that no matter how pissed off I was, there was NO WAY I was going to miss this shot. And he was right. As soon as I saw him there I immediately grabbed the nearest camera and took the photo. And he actually posed for me. He held his head up, puffed out his chest and waited until I had composed the shot and tripped the shutter.

He then stretched, got off the couch and went backt to where I had told him to lie down.

I just looked at him, shrugged my shoulders and thought:

"Felix is Felix"