The family dog in most locations is trained to perfection. He obeys and enjoys a variety of commands. For example, when told to stay on place, he does. "Place" is a command used to create an imaginary fence to keep him out of harm's way when cooking is going on in the kitchen. He will not cross the invisible line except, of course, for the occasional paw stretched as far as possible into the forbidden area. He sits at curbs to look both ways before he hears the instruction allowing him to walk into the street. He always walks on the left side of whatever family human is sufficiently lucky to accompany him on his regular outings. He waits for a secret release word before leaving a place or a sit/stay command.
These obedience marvels did not come cheaply nor easily. The family dog attended both Uncle Matty's Boot Camp and Pacific Dog Training Academy. He successfully completed both courses of study not with honors but at least with pats on the head and proclamations of "Good dog. Good dog."
All of that goes down the drain, however, when the family dog visits his grand humans.
"Oh, let him come to the table," we hear.
"Oh, one more piece of challah won't hurt him," we hear.
Not only does the family dog not recognize any of the elsewhere so familiar commands, the family parents wouldn't let him obey them even if he tried.
On the other hand, I guess lucky is the pooch who has such indulging grand humans.
Come to think of it, the family humans are pretty lucky, too.