How Great Danes Train Humans

Look, I’m not saying we Great Danes are running some conspiracy, but we definitely have a system. It’s not complicated or anything. It’s mostly just about being consistent and, you know, really big.

The staring thing? That’s like Training 101. I just look at my human during dinner with these sad eyes, and boom—suddenly there’s a piece of chicken on the floor. “Oops,” they say. Right. Oops. Works every time.

Then there’s what I call “The Lean.” I just casually rest my entire 150-pound body against them while they’re standing at the counter or whatever. At first, they try to move, but eventually, they’re like, “I guess I live here now.” And honestly? That’s the correct response.

The bed situation is probably my finest work. I start out taking up maybe a quarter of the bed, real polite and everything. But throughout the night, I just expand. It’s like I’m made of bread dough. By morning, they’re hanging off the edge using one pillow, and I’m diagonal across the whole mattress. They could move me, but they won’t. They never do.

Here’s the thing about humans—they think they’re in charge, but they’re actually pretty easy to figure out. You just gotta be patient and, like I said, really, really big. It’s not manipulation. It’s more like… guided decision-making.

The Soulful Stare: Mastering the Art of Emotional Manipulation

So here’s the thing about being tall: when I look at my human, I’m staring right at his chest. Most dogs have to look up at people like they’re watching an airplane. Not me. I’m basically at eye level with his nipples, which sounds weird when you say it out loud, but it’s actually perfect for my purposes.

When I lock eyes with him, he’s done. He can’t look away. He can’t pretend he’s reading his phone. We’re having a moment, whether he likes it or not.

I’ve got this guilty look that works for everything. Works when he’s eating a sandwich. Works when he gets home from the store and didn’t take me. Works really well at 6 AM when he’s running behind schedule. Breakfast is supposed to be at 6, not 6:03. We have a deal.

The whole thing is pretty simple once you break it down.

Step one: I plant myself right where he’s looking.

Step two: I do this slow blink thing that makes me look sad and wise at the same time.

Step three: I tilt my head a little bit, like I’m disappointed but not mad, just hurt. Like he let down the whole family.

Works every single time. He’ll be sitting there saying, “No, Yeti, you already ate,” and then sixty seconds later, I’m eating again.

The man has no willpower. I’ve known this since I was a puppy. Great Danes can sense human emotions, allowing me to use my soulful stare effectively to manipulate my human into giving me what I want.

Strategic Leaning: How Your Dane Claims You as Their Personal Furniture

The leaning started when I was maybe four months old and already fifty pounds. I discovered that, despite being kind of confused most of the time, humans make excellent wall substitutes. The move is pretty straightforward: walk up, lean my whole self against their legs, then just stand there.

Lean Type	Human Response	Success Rate
Gentle side press	Random petting	73%
Full collapse	Instant attention	94%
Slow slide down	Treats because they feel bad	81%

My human thinks she picked out the couch at the furniture store. That’s not what happened. I picked her out as my personal recliner a long time ago. The sofa is just where I taught her to sit down, so I can lean on her better. She thinks she’s watching TV and relaxing. She’s actually working her shift as my support beam. During our cuddle time, I take care to monitor her comfort levels to ensure joint support supplements enhance our bonding experience.

The Bed Takeover: Advanced Sleep Space Negotiation Tactics

Leaning works pretty well when everybody’s awake, but bedtime? That’s a whole different game.

I’ve got this thing down to a science. First, I start out all polite at the edge of the bed, like “oh no, I’m just happy to be here.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m sideways. Don’t even know how it happens. By midnight, I’m right smack in the middle, and Mom’s hanging off the side like she’s rock climbing. Dad’s already on the floor by then, but he acts like he meant to sleep there.

Here’s the thing about being 150 pounds: gravity just works differently for me. I’m not saying I’m a black hole or whatever we learned about in science class, but humans kinda roll toward me.

Then I stretch out a little. Then a little more. It’s not my fault, I grow at night.

I never actually ask for the whole bed. That would not be polite. I kinda expand. Like when you leave bread dough on the counter and come back, and it’s everywhere.

Sometimes Mom wakes up on the couch, and she’s really confused about it. I don’t know what to tell her. I was asleep too. The gentle demeanor of Great Danes promotes a calming atmosphere for humans, fostering enjoyment of simple activities like belly rubs.

Mealtime Mind Games: Training You to Serve on Their Schedule

Now, when it comes to food, I’m not pushy about it. I just kind of wander over near my bowl, like forty-five minutes before dinner. Then I stare. Not at the bowl, though—at you. That’s how you get the whole meal schedule thing moving in your direction.

What You Think	What’s Really Happening
“Oh, Yeti must be hungry.”	I’m training you
“That sad sigh means something.”	I practiced that sigh
“Wait, did I feed him already?”	Exactly what I wanted
“One early dinner’s no big deal.”	Now it’s the new time forever

I figured out that just standing in the kitchen doorway is pretty effective. I don’t make noise or anything. I stand there being really large and breathing kind of loud. After a while, you’ll decide on your own that feeding me early was a smart move you came up with. It’s all part of my strategy to ensure I get consistent training that aligns with my meal schedule.

The Couch Conquest: Establishing Territorial Dominance Over Living Room Real Estate

My human thinks the couch is for sharing. That’s adorable.

Here’s the thing about humans – they’re smart enough to buy furniture but not smart enough to realize who it actually belongs to. I started slow because you can’t take over a couch on day one. That’s not how strategy works.

First, I’d just sit next to him. Real casual. Like “hey buddy, just hanging out here.” Then I’d lean a little. Not much. Just enough that he’d to shift over. It’s like when you’re in the middle seat on a car ride – you don’t notice you’re being squished until you’re basically sitting on the window.

After a few weeks, I had him on the armrest. You know, that part of the couch nobody’s supposed to actually sit on? Meanwhile, I’m stretched out across three cushions like I’m posing for a magazine. Sometimes I let one paw hang off the edge. Really sells it.

The secret is making everything look natural. I’ll put my head on his lap – boom, he can’t move. Then I let out a big sigh, like he’s the one being inconvenient by existing in my living room.

And the best move? I pretend I’m sleeping so hard that if he tries to get up, he feels like a monster. Works every time.

Eventually, he bought another couch. I respect the effort, but now I switch between them depending on where the sun is.

He sits on the floor now.

Good human. Very trainable. Their emotional states significantly influence Great Dane behavior.

Final Thoughts

I’ve got my human right where I want him. Scientists say Great Danes sleep up to 12 hours a day, which is true, but what they don’t mention is how we’ve trained our humans to plan everything around when we might want to nap. Notice I said “when we might want to”—not when we actually do. That’s the genius part. My human doesn’t even know he’s been trained. One day, he’s living his life; the next, he’s asking me if the pillow is fluffy enough. I didn’t ask for a pillow. He just got me one. It’s honestly impressive how well this worked out.