Today when I got home from work, he was outside with The Wife as she was hanging laundry on the line. I came outside and he did the whole "Yay! You're home!" thing, and then he ran a bit and did his business in the corner out by the fence and ran some more and pressed up against me for pets and ear-rubs and all that sort of jazz. Then he went back inside, and I came in with The Wife. We chatted a minute or two about our days, and then I noticed Cane standing near the refrigerator. See, when he comes back inside from doing something, often times he'll get a dog biscuit. Not always, but probably most times. We keep the biscuits atop the fridge. So I noted him standing there grinning at me, and I fetched him a biscuit, which he happily took off to his bed and munched on.
Whereupon The Wife starts laughing and says, "He just totally played you."
I asked, "What are you talking about?"
And she replies, "I gave him a biscuit two minutes before you did! He just had two biscuits in two minutes!"
I looked at Cane, shocked at his conniving behavior. He seemed unmoved by my outrage.
And that is why Cane is a terrible, terrible, terrible dog.