I'm Lucky I Have Access to the Refridgerator


I've been on a campaign lately to re-win my dogs' affections.  (Or really just to re-win Moe's affections--I think we could beat Porter and she'd still love us, she's just that kind of dog.)

The thing is, I get so irritated at people who let their baby completely replace their dog.  I'm not saying the baby shouldn't take priority over the dog--duh.  I'm talking about those situations where the dog suddenly goes from sleeping next to you in bed to sleeping outside tied to a tree, for no other reason than that the humans have a new creature to love and, hence, don't need the dog anymore.  It's a little heartbreaking.

But, while Moe is still mostly ensconced at the foot of bed--and certainly has never even been in danger of sleeping outside of our bedroom--he's definitely been demoted, and he knows it.  There's been more, "Moe NO!" in the past month and half than anytime in his life.  (Well, maybe excluding a few trying months of his puppyhood....)  

"Moe OFF!"  (the pile of clean laundry)

"Moe LEAVE IT!"  (the baby's bottle or dirty diaper)

"Moe SOMEWHERE ELSE!"  (a.k.a. get out from under my feet before I trip over you)


I hadn't necessarily even realized how offended he was getting until about a week ago.  One evening when I finally had time to cuddle and Sweet Husband's extra hands to hold the babe, I called Moe to come sit with me on the couch.  He stuck his little terrier nose in the air, jumped on the couch, and purposely curled up as far away from me as possible.  Ouch.

Fortunately, he doesn't hold grudges for long--a few scratches under the armpits, a few well timed lumps of cheese and lunch meat, and we're on the path to hunky-dory again.  As long as I know how to open the fridge they can't hate me too much.