By Ashley Lister

 Because of my job, I often end up talking about the benefits of being a writer. I can wax lyrical for days about the joys of making my own hours, sharing my stories with those who want to be entertained, or simply losing myself in my own imagination. But one of the main blessings to my mind is that I get to spend time with this furry bastard.

 This is Oswald. Oswald is a mix-breed, half chihuahua and half Yorkshire terrier. We refer to him as a Chorkie. He’s also disturbingly intelligent. We taught him to swap things he finds for treats. The reasoning was, rather than him picking up potentially dangerous detritus and consuming it, he would give his findings to us, and we can then exchange whatever he’s got for a harmless piece of kibble.

 Oswald took advantage of this quite swiftly. He went scouting around the house for anything that looked like it might be worth exchanging. Socks, receipts found in pockets, envelopes that had been left on desks, general household litter. Once he’d asset-stripped the house he then went outside and swapped half the gravel from the rear of the building for kibble. After that he moved onto leaves, twigs and dead-headed rose hips. He retrieved them from outside, took them to the treat station in the kitchen, and insisted on being paid for his findings at the current kibble exchange-rate.

 But his genius didn’t stop there.

 Whilst my son was visiting we had closed the lounge door so Oswald wasn’t able to get into the room unsupervised. (My son had left a bag in there and Oswald would have been through it like a villain in a heist movie). Oswald kicked and kicked at the door but we ignored him and told him that he wasn’t going into the lounge.

 Oswald went and found a twig. Instead of taking it to the treat station, where he had performed his previous transactions, he dropped the twig at the lounge door and stared up at my son as if to tell him that he would trade this piece of contraband for access to the forbidden room.
 

 To most people this will sound like the ramblings of a dog-owner anthropomorphising a pet and imbuing causation and correlation where there is only coincidence. But for me, as someone who gets to spend so much time at home, seeing this remarkable behaviour is one of the added benefits of being a writer.