So I’m talking the other day to a friend of mine, about dogs
and our relationships with our dogs. You see he too has allowed a dog to be the
boss in his house. There is something about the face of a Labrador, when they
sit there looking at you out of the top of those eyes and wagging that bushy
long tail, ever so slightly, that makes you say “Oh I don’t give a crap. Do
what you want to do, just don’t eat my shoelaces anymore.” The fact that my
friend and I are both single men and don’t have spouse’s to please, may have
had a hand in this newfound freedom for our dogs.
I remember that spring day when Molly first came into my
life and how I vowed that for the first time in my long, dog filled life; this
one wasn’t going to get the upper hand with me. That I, the original dog
whisperer, was a disciplinarian too and this dog was going to toe the line in
my house. I was going to show her who was in charge here and people were going
to say when they saw us, “What a well behaved dog Mike. I wish my dog was like
that.”
The first thing I did was establish well-defined boundaries
that were carved in stone. The dog would stay in the kitchen, where I had a
tile floor that was easier to deal with those little messes puppies make.
Bladder control is non-existence in a puppy you know. Come to think of it it’s
becoming a problem with someone else but back to the story. Call their name;
they wag their tail and pee. Stamp your foot or slam the door they pee. It
comes with the territory. So with the aid of a baby gate she was confined and
that went well for a couple of days. Then I realized I didn’t want to spend all
of my life in the kitchen and she didn’t want to spend any of her life away
from me, so a new rule was made. She could be in with me but she had to stay
off the furniture and sleep in her kennel. Then a revision to that revision
came along and she could be on the couch but not on any other furniture. After
all she just wanted to lay her head in my lap and bond a little, what’s wrong
with that? Then another revision came along and she could get on any of the
furniture but just in the four-season porch, where I generally hang out, but
not on the living room furniture or on my bed. Bed you say? Oh yes, she was now
sleeping beside my bed because revision C had got her out of her kennel. Not
sure where we are with the revisions anymore but right now—you guessed it—she’s
sleeping with me and I’m not sure which is my side of the bed anymore. If the
kennel was bigger I would---- oh never mind.
My daughter say’s that sleeping with a dog is unhealthy. I
disagree. My dog is as healthy as any dog I have ever had, so that shoots that
theory down. She asked me, “what about the smell Dad”. I told her Molly would
get used to it. She may be the only dog who ever slept in my bed with me but I
have to admit that may have had something to do with the fact that where she
now sleeps, that space was filled by a woman for many years. This was a woman,
who unequivocally stated that there was no room in our bed, for animals that
licked their butts and shook their ears all night. Well, at least Molly doesn’t
snore, so chalk up one for the home team. Life is good.
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