Picture this: a 95-pound bundle of fur, a kitchen, a fridge with an ice-maker—and his human mom walks in to find the floor covered in frozen cubes.
The culprit? A smart as heck Bernese Mountain Dog named Frederick.
His mom looked at the scene and said, “Do you want a Bernese Mountain Dog?” She didn’t mean this kind of trouble.
But there he was, standing on his hind legs, his front paws tapping the ice dispenser like a jackpot machine.
I mean, every cube he could dump, he did. (“You have enough ice on the floor already.”)
Frederick had discovered a loophole in the system: the fridge ice machine was unlocked. So what does a big, smart, bored dog do when given the chance?
He makes ice. Lots of it. We’re talking cubes spilling across the wood floor, cascading out like confetti.
His mom tried to reason with him: “Buddy, you have enough ice…” But let’s be real—once you see someone standing two-feet tall dispensing frozen cubes at will, the laugh becomes inevitable.
Because the dog wasn’t misbehaving out of anger, or spite, or malice. He was exploring. He was experimenting. He was winning.
Here’s the underlying truth: Bernese Mountain Dogs are brilliant. They’re big. They’re strong.
They’re capable of catastrophe when they decide to apply their intelligence to household appliances.
The article warns: If you want a Berner, you better make sure the locks on your fridge are dog-proof. Because otherwise… you get ice monsoon.
Now imagine the cleanup. Mom flips the camera, walks into the kitchen, there’s Frederick—tall, proud, frozen cubes glinting around his paws.
She locks the fridge. The disappointment on his face is almost human: “Hey—what’d you lock?” But the joy in her voice? Unavoidable.
Because you can’t stay mad at a giant dog that just figured out how to operate your kitchen appliance.
But I want you to reflect on something bigger here than just ice cubes. Frederick’s antics echo a pattern we see in many bright dogs. They need a job. They need purpose.
Otherwise, they’ll create their own job. Whether that’s fetching socks, opening doors you didn’t realize were open, or becoming a canine self-serve ice machine.
If you own—or are considering owning—a dog like Frederick, here’s your takeaway: lock the fridge, yes. But also give them a channel.
Give them something meaningful to do. Because intelligence plus size plus boredom equals chaos. Frederick found the fridge.
He found his job. You just got the aftermath.
And for the rest of us watching? It’s a reminder that dogs are way smarter than we give them credit for—especially when we underestimate the breeds.
A “simple” dog is a myth. Frederick isn’t simple. He’s a giant, ice-making, mischief-mastering machine of love and fluff and paws.
So next time you hear rattling ice in the middle of the night, or you find cubes scattered across your floor—it might not be ghosts.
It may just be your dog saying: “I found a way.”
And you? You’ll smile, because even while you’re mopping up, you’re thinking: He’s kind of brilliant.
Because Frederick didn’t just dump ice. He made a point. He turned a fridge into a playground.
He reminded us: when you choose a dog, especially one built for the mountains—be ready. Lock your doors. Hide your refreshments.
And maybe invest in a good mop.
Because the next great story might be the one where your dog reinvents your kitchen.
