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Jensen is convinced that Heisenberg is the smartest dog ever to walk the earth.
It's actually adorable, how much Jensen likes the puppy. Jared had been kind of stressed out about it--he wasn't sure how Jensen would get along with animals. He has enough trouble with people. But Jensen fell in love at the pound and informed Jared happily that this was their dog, and her name was Heisenberg.
"Isn't Heisenberg a guy?" asked Jared.
"It's a last name," said Jensen, his arms full of squirming puppy. He faltered a little. "Do you like her?"
"I like her," Jared assured him. He reached over, scratched the puppy's head. She licked at his fingers. "She's great."
Nowadays, she's a little older, a little calmer, but she's still hyper and enthusiastic and tears around the house like a whirlwind. Jensen is convinced that she's just not being challenged.
"She's too smart," says Jensen. "I'm going to make some logic puzzles for her to do while we're at work."
"She ran into the door yesterday."
"She was testing force," says Jensen dismissively.
Heisenberg jumps up onto Jared's lap, convinced against all logic that she's going to be a lapdog her whole life.
"You'd like some logic puzzles, wouldn't you, Heisenberg?" asks Jensen, scratching behind her ears.
Heisenberg yips.
"See? Genius."