This is Dolly, my DIL. She wants to make you do her bidding.
It's that time of year again, when my in-laws plan a vacation, and at the last minute their dogcare plans fall through. So guess where they turn? To me, because they know I adore one of their dogs*, plus they know I'm a soft touch.
So that means Dolly the Dog-in-Law (DIL) is keeping me company this week. And I love the company, but man is she a manipulative little shit!
I've written before about her foxy good looks and fluffy tail. About how she calls me a pink ape and dares me to drop little blue bags of dog poo in mailboxes. And about the evil, stone-cold, killer heart that beats in her adorable doggy chest and makes her want to DESTROY other dogs, birds, garbage trucks, Fedex dudes ... the list is long, and in Dolly's mind unified by the belief that she MUST KILL THEM ALL.
Really? You think you're in charge? We'll see about that.
Since I believe in my own evolutionary superiority, and I've watched several episodes of Cesar Millan's Dog Whisperer show, we work things out. She's not allowed to pull on the leash. I make her sit and watch the other dogs -- and not lunge/growl/snarl -- as they walk by. She has to sit before we cross a street, and she's not allowed on the couch.
For the first few days of each visit, every single one of these rules is tested. Repeatedly. But by the end of a week, Dolly has come to terms with my way of doing these things.
That's when she gets creative. Like, today when she tricked me into taking her for an extra mid-day walk.
Hey! I gotta show you something! It's outside! C'mon, quick, before it's gone!
Dolly had me utterly convinced that an explosive dog diarrhea attack was imminent. She followed me around from room to room, sat outside the bathroom door, made little whining noises, and even barked a couple of times. She's not a barker, so that really got my attention.
When I picked up my shoes, she jumped around and did an excited dance. I didn't even finish tying them, just grabbed my keys and got her out the door. I fully expected her to make a beeline for the nearest patch of grass so she could poop or piss or whatever else she needed to do.
Nope.
She stuck her nose in the air, and skipped down the street, pleased as punch to be outside on a nice day. We went almost a full block before she bothered to stop and squat, and then hardly anything came out -- barely a dribble of pee!
In other words, that entire "follow-Cat-around-and-whine" song and dance was an act she cooked up because she was bored. And I fell for it.
That's okay. In fact, it's part of the fun, to get tricked by this crafty little dog. Plus she was right. It was more exciting to go for a walk than to watch me write for another hour.
Indeed, an afternoon papasan chair nap is much more enjoyable after a nice brisk walk in windy San Francisco.
*The Other Dog-in-Law
So yeah, there is a second DIL, whom I call "Other Dog". Because when I visit my in-laws it sounds like this:
"Hellllloooo Dolly!!!!!! How's my girl? Did you miss me? Oh yes you did!!!!!"
Tail wagging, hugs, and a general lovefest ensue. Then a sharp, nasty little bark breaks through the happy reunion Dolly and I are enjoying.
Seinfeld pause.
"Oh. Hello Other Dog."
I just never took to the little guy. Maybe it's his messed up tooth. Or maybe it's his piss poor attitude. Anyway, I don't know where he's staying this week, and I don't care. Because he's Other Dog. I don't even know his real name. It could be Tyler or Romaine or Queen Elizabeth. Don't ask me.
Of course my father-in-law loves Other Dog. He probably even knows it's real name.
- Cat/BadKitty
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