We had a dog who was a cross among beagle, chihuahua and orange terrier. She’d hang out in the kitchen when I cooked so if I dropped something on the floor she could score; the vet made us feed her only “science diet” and it was boring. One time I dropped a black olive and she chased the thing all over for about 10 minutes, finally cornering it and managing to get it into her mouth, but when she tasted it, she spat it out and looked at me very accusingly: “You did that on purpose — FEH!”
She was adorable, not terribly smart. She’d lunge at the fridge when the reflection of a flying insect went by, and every time she got smacked down and fell, she was both humiliated and angry at us for laughing — which we REALLY tried not to do, but you know how it goes.