I kept perceiving that TuxnDog, my Cane Corso was telepathic—especially in the way she learns a new button and instinctively knows how to fit it into her daily conversations with me, by the next day.
Honestly, I’ve felt a version of this telepathic connection with each of my dogs throughout my life. But with TuxnDog, I had to pause. It was heavy. This felt like more than training or intelligence. It was as if energy was passing between us—some invisible current—where rational knowledge wasn’t even involved.
So I started examining both of our actions more in depth.
For instance, TuxnDog usually likes to sleep in late—she’s a true diva until about 11 a.m. Then, like clockwork, she starts pushing me around on her gizmo’s –get to Crack’n,” “breakfast,” then when the timer goes off on the stove she jumps to her soundboard says “it’s done” “let me have it!” If the sun’s out and it’s a weekend, she sometimes skips “Good morning” and goes straight for “Room service.” That’s her in superstar mode, relaxing in what she believes is a five-star resort. (Don’t tell her it’s a two-star riverside cabin… because from her point of view, it’s a 10-star estate with a staff of one: me.)
But here’s where the telepathy theory got interesting.
I began observing myself. What exactly makes her decide to get up when I leave the room. It’s not the allure of the kitchen—she usually stays curled up in her living room bed even while I move around making a quick breakfast, before I go back to her side to work. She’s not hungry until noon. I’ve opened the fridge (where her fresh meat is), cooked food, made coffee, and nothing. She just lounges.
But on days I start work beside her, but need a break and I get up not to return to the couch, that’s when she suddenly gets up and trots in like, “Okay, let’s do this instead.”
How does she know that I’ve changed my mind about coming back to the couch at any point?
And I realized: just before that, I had changed my glasses. I put on my general-use glasses instead of my reading glasses. When I switch glasses, she knows I’m not going back to the couch. I’m staying up. And she doesn’t want to miss seeing what I’m doing close up.
She reads my glasses like tarot cards.
At first, I thought it was full-on telepathy. But now I wonder: maybe she’s memorized my patterns so deeply she can predict my next move. Is it really telepathy? Or just… dog-level mind mastery?
But wait—it gets better.
Monkey See, Monkey Flip
One evening, I had her blocked off in the living room so I could get some work done. She’d already eaten, had her treats, and it was bedtime. But instead of settling in, she started speaking to me in full-on Corsonian. Those bossy Cane Corso gurgles and growls you only understand if you’ve lived with one.
Out of nowhere, she got so excited she flipped completely over and popped up like it was a cheerleading move. I didn’t have a command for that funny antic, so I just blurted out: “Monkey!”
Now, anytime I say “Monkey,” she yells something in Corsonian, lays down and instantly flips. She taught herself a trick—and I just named it “monkey.”
Let Me Pose
Another time, I told her: “Say hello to your friends and pose.”
She barked, jumped up, barked mid-air, sat, and lifted her paw when all I did was pointing at her paw and she had never shook hands. On the first try.
So naturally, I made a new talking button—one of our own Tawk’n Tux’n Talking Gizmos—that said: “Let me pose.”
She’d never heard the phrase before. But the moment I placed the button down, she pressed it—then immediately sat and lifted her paw without any prompting. She understood her own command. She responded to it like it was part of her internal vocabulary. And just like that, it became a permanent fixture in her routines.
She doesn’t just press buttons to control me (though, make no mistake, she does). She also listens to her own voice and follows through. It’s like I’m living with a motivational speaker in a tuxedo dog costume.
So is she telepathic?
Or is she just a genius dog with a mensa memory, capable of tracking micro-movements and predicting the future from past observances.
Whatever it is, she’s brilliant. A true conversationalist. And when I really tune into TuxnDog’s sense of communications, thats when I realize she has developed her own sense of humor to top it all off.