Who is in Charge Here?

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Lately, I have been reading more and more about some amazing Doodles we have here on DoodleKisses and it has gotten me thinking about Fudge and Vern.  I have been asking myself what special skills do my two dogs have and have we been working together as master and dog to the best of our abilities?  Unfortunately, if I am honest, I would have to say in our case the lines get fuzzy as to who is master and who is supposed to be listening to the other.  Sunday, I was doing yard work and Fudge wanted to play ball.  As I took some stuff to the garbage, I told her in a very firm voice that I was done playing ball and not to ask again, and the next thing I know I see the ball rolling past me down the driveway.  Apparently, she heard what I said and pushed her ball under the gate to let me know if she couldn’t fetch, then maybe I could.  Sure enough, I had to run down the driveway, across our street, and into the neighbor’s yard to “fetch” the ball and show her that I wasn’t kidding when I said we were done.  This isn’t the first time I have had enough of that ball and she has gone to the gate to let me know one of us still wants to play ball. 

The other thing she does that I swear is on purpose and designed to show me who is the boss is how she drops the ball.  I can’t fault her for her listening skills because when I say, “drop the ball,” she does, but somehow, no matter how my feet are positioned, she makes sure to drop it directly on one of my feet so it rolls just out of my reach.  I have tried standing with my legs farther apart, or if I am sitting, I cross them under me, but regardless of what I do, she consistently waits for my
“drop it,” and does so right on one of my feet.  It really is a talent, I think, and then she stands there as I am fumbling around for the ball or trying to dig it out from wherever it rolled to and looks at me like, “what is taking so long?” I find myself yelling at her, “stop dropping the ball on my feet,” and I swear she smiles. 

Oh, and before I hear she couldn’t possibly be doing it on purpose or maybe your feet are just that big, she is smart and devious and I defy anyone reading this to play ball with her before making up their mind.

 

I don’t know if I have the words “sucker” written somewhere on me, but it seems in the world of kids and dogs, I get taken advantage of on a regular basis.  Hayley had been complaining about a broken hair dryer for a while and despite the fact that I didn’t bite at first or really show much interest in the fact that her hair seemed to always be wet other than saying, “could you drip dry down in your room, please?” I know she was staying awake at night planning her strategy to get a new hair dryer without spending a dime of her own money.  Sure enough, she had the nerve to say one day, “mom, remember when I gave you my old hair dryer?  Well, my newer one broke and if I hadn’t given you that old hair dryer, I wouldn’t need to buy another one, so technically, you owe me a new one.”  “Are you kidding me?  You are a piece of work,” I smugly answered back.  I was still recounting her audacity to John with all the righteous anger I could muster as I was in line at TJ Maxx to pay for the new hair dryer. 

I guess since Hayley has been perfecting her “art of paying less,” techniques since infancy, I got hoodwinked by a pro or is it being hoodwinked if you know you are being played?  I still love to tell the story about the time in Target when she bought a $6.00 item, gave me the money so I could pay for it while she went off somewhere and when I said, “hey, what about the tax?’ she puffed up like a peacock and answered back that she refused to pay her own mother tax.  Megan loves to tell the story about how Hayley put my Mother’s Day gift, a “World’s Best Mother” shirt, in my cart and walked away at check out time.  Of course, when she retells the story, she leaves out half of the pertinent data and always concludes with I bought myself a “World’s Best Mother” shirt because my kids never did. It makes me look a little pathetic, but seems to evoke laughter whenever she tells the story, which is often.

 

On more than one occasion when dealing with my kids or dogs, I have turned to John and said, “do you see the word dumbass written on my forehead?” only to have him answer back that he doesn’t see ass.  Even sweet Vern has my number and he will stay silent for just so long until he decides it is walk time and then he leads the brigade of Doodles that begin to shadow me, prevent me from moving about freely, try to hypnotize me with unwavering stares, block my path as I attempt to turn away from the door leading to the car, and eventually herd me like a couple of cattle dogs into the car.  Even as I am protesting that I am too busy to go for a walk, I am putting the keys in the ignition and backing out of the driveway.  Yesterday, I was trying to talk to the neighbor lady and Fudge was walking around me with a stick hanging out of her mouth like a stogy and Vern was alternating eating large clumps of grass and chomping sticks and both of them know full well I was trying to ignore them. 

I think the piece de resistance was when they both jumped up over the stone wall into the new area John just made between our houses, outlined in deer fencing, to begin wrestling between my neighbor and me and when that was over, Fudge decided it was time to go number two in full view of both of us.  First of all, Fudge still won’t jump onto our bed, but had no trouble clearing our stone wall, which is higher.  Secondly, she usually loves to wait to go to the bathroom on our walks until we are at the furthest point away from any trashcan, so I have to carry it for miles, so I was pretty sure this was her way of saying, "here's what I think about conversing with neighbors when we should be up at the park."   No, they were behaving like my toddlers when I used to get on the telephone and they took that opportunity to find trouble while I was distracted.  It is funny how they both found ways to make me stop talking.

 

John says I am too lenient and he loves to mimic me and stand behind me and say, “I mean it, I am going to give you 50 more chances and then you are in big trouble.”   Most of the time I just turn around and say, “John, I am going to give you 50 more years of wedded bliss, because when I said until death do us part I meant it,” which I have found almost immediately scares him into silence.  Just between you and me, he may have a point, but I don’t have time to ponder it right now, because Fudge and Vern are letting me know it is time for another walk.

[DJ & Chance]

LOL.  Chance also waits to poop where it is the most inconvenient for me.  Does he think I love the smell of his poop so much that I want to carry it around in a pathetic baggie on a hot day, steam arising?

[Charlotte and Bo]

I think all my dogs have had my number.  Bo has a game he plays when he wants to go out.  First he pesters me until I get up and head for the door.  He acts like he is excited .  If there is a creature to chase or the kids next door are playing basketball then off he goes.  If not then he just stands there and looks at me.  I must go out first, close the door, and then reopen it.  It took awhile to learn the rules of the game. :-)

 

My previous dog BJ hated when I was on the phone.  He would bark at me and when that didn't work he would go get a throw rug from another room and drag it around in front of me.  It seems they all have ways of getting their way.